Blue Eyes
by HonestlyImperfect
Summary: Charlotte Samuels never expected to literally fall into the arms of Captain America. Falling in love had been just as easy as falling into his arms, and Charlotte suddenly found herself wrapped up in his world of danger and intrigue. Can the pair forge their path together, or will the strain be too much to bear? Rated M for lemons and a healthy dose of curse words.
1. Mustard Yellow

**AN: Okay, so just as a heads up I haven't written fanfic in years, and this is my first Avengers fanfic. This takes place post Avengers but pre-Winter Soldier/Ironman 3, though there may be some non-plot related pieces from TWS within this later on for character building purposes. This is rated M for some possible smut later on and the ample use of swear words by most of my characters. **

**I'll be trying to update with new chapters every week as I've already got the first couple finished. Please read and review as much as possible, like I said, its been awhile since I was publishing fanfic. To give you any clue the last time I did the review button was at the bottom of the page and was purple. God, I'm old. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Also unfortunately I do not own ANY Marvel characters. Just Charlotte and any OC's I need to bring in. Happy reading!**

What was with the sudden obsession with stars? I thought to myself, staring at panel after panel of fabric, each with stars incorporated somehow within the design. Loud patriotic stars, stars in the night sky, faint tiny stars just a shade darker than surrounding fabric. Stars everywhere. Don't get me wrong, stars were fantastic, but they were everywhere now. Stars on notebooks, sketchpads, pencils, scrapbooking materials and stamps. Everywhere you looked in this little craft store, there were stars. I sighed and looked down at the sketchpad in my lap, surprised to see that during my little internal rant I had drawn dozens of poorly shaped stars all over my piece of paper. Large stars, little stars, shooting stars, all of them malformed and looking like a five year old had drawn them. I groaned and ripped the page in frustration. I had two bachelors degrees, a masters degree and a doctorate, and at 27 years old, I still couldn't draw basic shapes. I lacked what seemed like even the slightest artistic talent and flipped through my sketchpad, seeing page after page of poorly drawn lines, uneven figures and scramblings. I had thought that working in this little craft shop on the lower east side might aid my artistic ability, maybe inspire me or teach me something, but after 3 years it seemed that it was useless. I threw the crumpled piece of paper toward the trash can underneath the counter where I sat, watching it bounce off of the corner of the lid. I huffed in frustration, hopping down from my stool and reaching for the piece of paper.

"Charlotte!" my manager, Stella's, voice rang out from the back of the store. I sprang up, rapping my head sharply against the counter.

"Fuck!" I muttered, rising slowly and feeling my head for the beginnings of a bump.

"Charlotte!" Stella called again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" I called back, following her voice to the back of the store. Turning down an aisle walled up on both sides with yarn of every color, shape and size, I found Stella, my manager of the past three years struggling to bring down a ball of yarn bigger than her head. A feat which would usually be impressive, given that Stella was smaller than me, hovering around five feet tall and shrinking fast. Stella was nearly 73 years old and had opened the little shop nearly 40 years ago. A reformed flower child, she insisted on working every day for at least 5 hours each day and was at the moment standing on tip toes on our old stepladder, trying to bring down what had to be the largest ball of yarn I had seen in my life.

"Stella! What are you doing up there?!" I asked, rushing over to bop the ball back into its space on the shelf and help Stella down the stepladder.

"I want to divide up that skein. That color is never going to sell in that size. Who the hell would want 500 yards of mustard yellow yarn?" She asked, dusting herself off. "God knows what I was thinking ordering that."

"By the look of it, you bought it in 1975 and it hasn't moved since." I reached up, pulling the giant skein down and examining it. Stella smiled.

"That explains quite a bit actually. 1975 was a good year for mustard yellow," Stella murmured, a soft smile on her face, " In fact I had quite the two piece I made for myself that summer in mustard yellow. Didn't cover up much." she mused, continuing down the aisle. I screwed up my face trying to get that image out of my head. "Take the rest of those down, along with that puke green color. They'll sell faster in smaller sizes. I'll take over at the front dear." with that she disappeared around the corner. I sighed, looking up at the mountain of yarn in front of me and shuddered.

"Two piece mustard yellow bathing suit. What the hell was wrong with everyone in the 70's?"

Somewhere during my third trip up to grab a giant mustard yellow yarn ball, I faintly remember hearing the bells jingle in the front of the store and the sound of Stella's sweet voice, along with that of a man. I smiled to myself. Stella did love the guys, always had, it seemed. She never hesitated to share her first hand experiences of the sexual revolution, much to my and most of the staff's dismay. Though at the end of the day, Stella was kind of a badass. She had managed to keep this store open and successful for decades on her own. Never married, seldom paired up, she seemed extremely satisfied with her lot. She was independent and open minded, changing and shifting with the years as easily as New York City itself. She had tried teaching me to draw to no avail, but had found some success in teaching me to knit as long as I had a specific pattern to follow. Stella had hosted birthday parties, bridal and baby showers for her staff along with a spirited Christmas celebration each year. Out of all of my endless odd jobs, she had been my favorite boss, which is why I had stayed here for longer than my requisite 2 months before quitting. Every time I thought about it, Stella did something outrageous or sweet that convinced me to stay for a bit more.

"Crazy old bat," I muttered, pulling the final giant ball of mustard yellow yarn from the top shelf, grabbing on and trying to maneuver my feet below me to the next step on the stepladder, realising too late that the heel of my shoe had caught on the top step, sending me backwards. I had a brief moment to flail out and pray that the balls of yarn around me would make for a soft, if offensively colored landing, before being plucked out of the air by two fairly large arms. I tensed for impact, eyes closed until I realized that I was no longer moving. One eye popped open to see a man with a blue eyes staring back at me, slightly bemused. I opened my other eye to see the rest of his face, classically handsome, with a strong jaw, sharp cheekbones and a well defined nose, as well as light blue eyes twinkling with amusement. Realizing that I was staring, looked down at the giant ball of yarn still clutched to my chest and finally reacted.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I wriggled to get down, knowing that I wasn't exactly easy to pick up, but blue eyes here didn't seem to have any problem with that, as his grip only tightened as I wriggled.

"Are you alright miss?" he asked, his voice at once commanding and soft. Miss, I thought in my head, I hadn't been called miss in almost 5 years. A small section of my brain did a happy dance.

"I'm fine really, just let me down please. I know I'm heavy," I wriggled again and Blue Eyes grinned, a secret glinting in his eyes.

"No miss, you're not heavy at all." he said as he let me back onto my feet. I blushed and felt instant relief as my feet touched the ground, only to feel faint again as my head throbbed, a nasty reminder of my bump earlier. I reached back, feeling a definite lump rising on the back of my head. A few more hours and I'd have quite the bump, looking like a villian out of a old-fashioned Mickey Mouse cartoon.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Blue Eyes asked again, leaning down to look me in the eyes, searching to see if I really was okay.

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm fine, just clumsy." I smiled weakly, still rubbing the back of my head tenderly.

"Did you hurt your head? I could've sworn I grabbed you before you hit anything," He muttered distractedly, reaching back to where my hand was rubbing the bump on my head.

"No, that was from earlier. I wasn't kidding when I said I was clumsy," Blue Eyes was parting my dark hair in order to look at the bump closer before I realized how very close he was and my New York instincts kicked in.

"Hey, excuse me Blue Eyes, I'm fine," I muttered, turning away from him and clutching the back of my head gingerly. "Ever heard of personal space?" I asked as I stepped back and onto a mound of yarn, before I knew it I was falling backwards yet again and braced for impact, only to find myself again in the arms of Blue Eyes, this time only a few inches off the ground.

"Geez, you weren't kidding about clumsy, huh?" he asked, a smirk on his perfect features. I huffed in frustration as he placed me back on my feet.

"Well Boy Scout, I suppose its a good thing that you're here isn't it?" I muttered, kicking the ball of yarn responsible for my humiliation. "Thanks for the help, but I'm afraid I have to get back to work."

"Blue Eyes, Boy Scout?" He wondered aloud, "Are those supposed to be insults?"

"Yes, I suppose that they are." I muttered, reaching down to grab yet another yarn ball and straightening up quickly to insult Blue Eyes again before all the blood rushed to my brain and then away in quick succession, leaving me dizzy and faint. I registered a look of concern before I found myself in boy scout's arms for the third time in a five minute period.

"You are definitely not alright." he muttered, striding out of the aisle and toward the front of the store.

"Charlotte! What happened?" Stella exclaimed, racing over. Blue Eyes placed me in a chair gently, leaning me against the wall. The room was definitely spinning and Blue Eyes was staring at me intently.

"Definitely a concussion." he muttered. "You said something happened earlier, how did you hurt your head?"

"Counter. I tried to get a piece of trash into the trashcan, missed, and then went down to retrieve it, was suprised and stood up, not realizing that the counter was right above my head. And as much as I hate you admit that you're right Blue Eyes, it's definitely a concussion."

"You've had them before?" he asked.

"I've had enough to know what one feels like. Clumsy remember? I'll be fine, just let me sit for a bit." I murmured, straightening myself on the stool, blinking my eyes to try and focus.

"If you have a concussion, you should go the hospital."

"The hospital?" both Stella and I exclaimed at the same time. I looked over at Stella for the first time, seeing her face wrinkled with worry. I cursed inwardly. Stella didn't need this stress.

"I'm fine, I promise. It's not a bad concussion, just a mild one. No need for the hospital." I reasoned. Blue Eyes narrowed his eyes in suspicion and I shot him a pleading look. He glanced back at Stella's worried face and sighed.

"Yeah, you'll be fine. As long as you go home right now and call a friend to look after you." He looked pointedly at me, as if already expecting my refusal. After a brief internal struggle, my better judgement won out.

"Fine." I muttered between my teeth, and Blue Eyes smirked triumphantly. "Stella, Joanne should be here in 15 minutes. She can take the rest of my shift. I only had a half an hour left anyway. I'll be in tomorrow though okay?" I told her reassuringly as I stepped down from the stool, Blue Eyes holding one arm firmly to make sure I didn't fall.

"No, no. We'll have someone else come in. You stay home, take care of yourself. You'll walk her home, won't you dear?" she asked, touching Blue Eyes' huge bicep softly. I could see her hands squeeze just slightly, testing the muscle and rolled my eyes. Boy scout's eyes widened and I suppressed a smirk. Stella never missed out on an opportunity to feel up an attractive man.

"Of course I will, no problem at all ma'am," Blue Eyes replied.

"Okay then. Be safe! And give me a call when you get home Charlotte!" she said, opening the door for us. We exited into the cold November evening.

"Where do you live?" Blue Eyes asked and I looked up at him suspiciously.

"You don't need to know. It's close by and I can get there by myself." I extracted my arm from his grasp and stepped away before feeling faint again and taking a step back into his arms inadvertently.

"Uh huh. I'd like to see you try," he chuckled, "now, once again, where do you live?" I sighed, conceding defeat and pointed to the right.

"Two blocks that way. 121 oak, apartment 3C." we moved in that direction slowly, Blue Eyes keeping a large and solid arm underneath mine, supporting me.

"You're sure that you're fine? You don't feel any nausea do you? How much pain?" he asked as we paused at a crosswalk.

"I'm fine. No nausea, and the pain isn't bad," I said.

"On a scale of 1 to 10?"

" About a 2," I lied.

"On a scale of 1 to 10?" he asked again skeptically.

"Fine. Maybe more like a 7." I admitted as we came up to the door of my building.

"You need someone to come stay with you. Make sure you don't throw up or anything. Your concussion is probably worse than you let on in the store. You should have let me take you to the hospital." he muttered, irritation rising in his voice as we climbed the three flights of stairs to my apartment.

"Hey Blue Eyes, I'm home now, no need to continue playing boy scout." I muttered, opening the door and stepping outside, flicking the light on and then wincing. Blue Eyes shut the light off again, directing me towards the couch and turning on a light on the coffee table, directing it away from my face.

"Sensitivity to light, dizziness, head pain, and noise sensitivity if the way you cringed at that dump truck on the corner is any indication," My brows furrowed in confusion. I hadn't even noticed that. "You definitely have a decent concussion and should be in the hospital." He stood and reached for the phone.

"Stop, I'm fine!" I exclaimed. He paused in dialing, looking over at me, "Listen, I don't have any insurance, and if Stella hears that I was in the hospital, she'll make herself sick with worry. I'm fine, I promise." Blue eyes set the phone down hesitantly.

"Fine, but you need to have someone look after you at the very least. You have any friends you can call? Boyfriends, family?" I smirked.

"Real subtle Boy Scout." I muttered underneath my breath, "Not really. I can call Steph I guess, it'll just take her a bit to get here."

"Give her a call. I'll stay here until she can get in." My eyes narrowed, he crossed his arms and stared me down. "Concussions are no laughing matter." Frustrated I made a face at him and dialed Steph's number.

"Hey Steph. No, nothings wrong. No, no, I'm fine. Well, I have just a tiny bit of a concussion." I winced holding the phone away from my ear as she yelled worriedly. "I'm fine, I just banged my head at work and need someone to look after me for a bit. I wouldn't ask but the boy scout who walked me home from work insists on it." Blue Eyes turned back, eyebrow raised. "Yeah, that's fine. A half an hour is more than fast enough. Thanks Steph, I appreciate it. See you soon." I set the phone down.

"There? You happy?" I muttered. "My friend will be here in 30 minutes. She's a trained nurse and I'm probably taking her away from a shift, but she'll be here because everyone around me is entirely too paranoid about my health."

"A concussion is nothing to laugh at. They can cause serious brain damage. How many have you had?" he asked, irritation once more creeping into his voice.

"Only a couple," I bluffed and he looked at me unbelievingly, crossing his arms. "Fine, around 10 in my life, mostly minor." I admitted. "Are you insinuating that I have brain damage?" I muttered, offended.

"No I'm not, though at this point you probably should. 10 concussions in what 20 years? How old are you?" he asked.

"20, oh, geez how young do you think I am?" I blushed a bit, "I mean, please, continue but I'm definitely not 20. Try 27." I corrected. He eyebrows shot up.

"Really? Huh. I guess I'm not as good at guessing age as I used to be." he muttered.

"Yep, 27 years old, no boyfriend, no prospects, practically an old maid." I muttered quietly.

"I wouldn't go that far." he grinned, with that knowing glint in his eyes. My head shot up, and I blushed deeply, wondering how he could have heard me.

"Your friend is a nurse?" he asked, sitting down on the chair facing me.

"Yes, she works at Mount Sinai. She'll know for sure how bad the concussion is. She's nursed me through them before."

"So this is a common occurrence?" he smirked. My eyes narrowed.

"Yes, boy scout, this happens fairly frequently," I snapped out and sighed realizing how much of a bitch I sounded like. "I'm sorry, that wasn't very polite. I shouldn't be snapping at you. You've been nothing but a gentleman this whole time." I murmured, rubbing my arms to get some warmth back in them. Blue Eyes reached over and grabbed the afghan from behind me, tucking it around my arms.

"Apology accepted," he smiled, unfolding the blanket around my feet, "Didn't you have a coat?"

"I forgot it at the store. I'll get it tomorrow-" he looked at me pointedly, "Sorry, I meant the day after tomorrow," I corrected, remembering my promise to Stella. Blue Eyes finished laying out the blanket and looked up at me.

"Feeling warm enough?" he asked, looking up at me from his position kneeling on the floor. I smiled faintly.

"Yeah, nice and toasty. Thanks for all of this. Really. I know I wasn't exactly cooperative, but I'm glad that you took the time to take me home. I know you must need to get going back to your girlfriend or whatever. You must have left her in the store." Blue Eyes smiled.

"Real subtle Charlotte," he murmured and my eyebrows shot up, realising that he had heard me earlier as well. "No, I didn't leave anyone in the store. I was in there alone."

"A normal young guy in a craft store by himself?" I asked, "I've gotta be honest, we don't get many of your kind around there." Blue Eyes chuckled softly.

"I was looking for some sketch pads. I draw in my spare time."

"Really?" I asked, a hint of disbelief in my voice.

"Yes, really. It's been a hobby of mine for quite a long time," a hint of sadness passed over his perfect features.

"Huh, I never would have guessed. I suppose you learn something new every day." Blue Eyes grinned and looked up at me, a knowing glint in his eyes.

"Yeah I suppose so," he agreed. His eyes were the most perfect shade of blue, light and almost gray, like the Hudson on a sunny day. He really was very handsome; perfect features, well trimmed blond hair and full lips that drew my attention almost immediately. I focused on them, feeling dizzy once more, but certain that this time it wasn't because of the concussion. I leaned forward a little bit, unaware of my own lips parting softly. I looked up, seeing his eyes once more and noticing them focused on my lips. He leaned toward me a bit as well, close enough that I could brush my fingers along his jaw.

"Charlotte?!"

We both sprung apart, Blue Eyes standing immediately. I looked up at the door to see Steph standing there in full coat and scarf. She rushed over, looking at me closely and checking my pupils.

"Steph, I'm fine, seriously!" I turned and she grabbed my chin to keep me still.

"Your pupils are fine and your reaction time is alright. Where's your pain at, 1 to 10?" she asked in her scariest nurse voice.

"About a 2." I lied.

"She's lying. She admitted earlier that it was around a 7." Blue Eyes muttered. Steph looked up, surprised to realize that there was another person in the room. "Feel better Charlotte," Blue Eyes said, "Make sure you call your boss. Stay safe." he smiled, but it didn't reach his blue eyes, before turning abruptly and heading for the door. I stared after him until the door closed, at which point Steph screamed in excitement.

"Ow, Steph concussion, remember?" I replied, clutching my head.

"Oh, sorry Charlie! I just-You know who that guy was right?" she asked.

"Blue Eyes? Not really, I didn't catch his name." Steph rolled her eyes.

"How oblivious can you be?! Don't you watch the news anymore? That was Steve Rodgers! Captain America walked you home!" My eyes widened as I stared up at the door again. Blue Eyes was Captain America. Huh. You really do learn something new everyday.

**AN: So, what'd you think? Please review!**


	2. Morning After

**AN: Hey guys, so happy to see such a response on the story so far! I'm glad you guys like it and hopefully you guys keep coming back! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my Captain American obsession. :P**

Between her constant fretting about me and intermittent bursts of excitement over meeting Captain America, I was fairly sick of Steph by the time she determined that I was okay to go to sleep that night. I passed out around 8:30, mainly because I wanted Steph to stop talking. She woke me up several times that night to check on me until nine the next morning, at which point Steph prescribed as much sleep as I needed, a full day and night inside as well as no loud noises, bright lights, knitting or reading before she left for her next shift at the hospital. After which I promptly fell back asleep and forgot everything she told me.

I finally resurfaced around noon, pulling back the covers and seeing thin glints of sunlight passing through the shades. I got out of bed, standing slowly and testing my head for dizziness, happy to find that I was no longer dizzy and my head only throbbed slightly. I stretched and put on my comfiest bathrobe, prepared for a full day of TV and relaxation. Unable to resist, I peeked out the window and drew back, hissing like a vampire. Ok, so apparently light sensitivity was still a thing.

I ventured into my kitchen, brewing a cup of coffee and starting toast for breakfast. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I went into the living room, turning the television on low and turning back for the kitchen before doing a double take. On the chair across the room sat my jacket and purse from yesterday. I shook my head, turning back towards the kitchen. Steph must have picked them up on her way to work. What a sweetheart. I'd have to send her some peanut butter brownies, otherwise known as her favorite and least favorite thing. She deserved them. I set out eggs and butter to bring to room temperature before talking my coffee and toast into the living room. Setting my breakfast down I wandered over to the chair and picked up my coat, noticing a small slip of paper fall lightly to the floor. Confused, I picked it up and my eyes widened.

_Dear Charlotte,_

_Hope that you're feeling better. Didn't want you to try and get to the shop today to grab these so I picked them up myself and left them with your friend. Please stay in and take care of yourself today. Remember, concussions are no laughing matter._

_Feel better,_

_Steve_

I chuckled at the last line, remembering his tone of voice when he had told me the same thing the day before. I smiled slowly, feeling warm and tingly that'd he'd take the time to write a note and pick up my stuff. The press was not kidding about his whole white knight routine. He really seemed like a good guy.

"Oh shit," I moaned, sitting on the couch heavily. I was the biggest jerk to him yesterday and all he was trying to do was help. I ran through the events in my head again, "Ugh, could I have been more of a jerk?" Penelope, my cat emerged from behind the couch, cuddling into my lap. "No right? I couldn't. I was the biggest asshole ever to Captain fucking America. I called him boy scout for god sakes!" I dropped my head back in exasperation and Penelope climbed up to lick my chin. "Oh, and where were you last night young lady?" I asked looking at her white and black face. She looked at me slyly before jumping off of my lap and crossing to my bedroom. "Uh huh. Likely story." I called after her.

I rose, going back to the kitchen and starting on Steph's brownies. I had not behaved well yesterday and still he had brought my coat and jacket back to me. I poured the batter into a pan and then slid them into the oven, setting the timer on my phone. If Steph got peanut butter brownies, then it was the least I could do to make something for Steve. I pulled my phone out again, texting Steph.

"_I need to make something for Steve to say thank you. Why didn't you tell me he brought my stuff home?!"_

"_You were asleep! Steve as in Captain America? Oooooo."_

"_Shut up. I was a complete bitch to him yesterday and I feel like shit. Help me figure out how to make it up to him."_

"_How are you going to get anything to him? Send it via his fan club?"_

Oh crap, I hadn't thought that far. I raced back across the room, picking up the note on the table, noticing the bottom of the page.

**Avengers Tower**

**200 Park Avenue**

**New York, New York**

"_He left a note with my stuff and its got an address on it"_

"_Score!"_

"_Looks like he's staying at the Avengers Tower. At the very least someone there might know about him."_

"_Well, there you go Betty Crocker. What the hell are you going to make him?"_

"_Shit, I don't know. Ideas?"_

"_Well, you could always make apple pie -wink, wink-"_

"_I can't believe you said that. Also, you can just text an winky emoji face. You don't have to text -wink, wink- every time"_

"_Bitch I know that, I just prefer to write it long hand. I'm old fashioned like that. Crap, gotta go, we've got a code in bed 25."_

"_Okay thanks, go save lives!"_

I set my phone down and sighed. Something with apples actually wasn't a terrible idea. I smiled, seeing the puff pastry in my fridge.

"Yes, definitely something with apples."

* * *

><p><strong>(Steve POV)<strong>

"Earth to Capsicle. Earth to Capsicle. Shit, is he having a stroke? He's certainly old enough for it. Steve!" Captain Steve Rogers snapped to attention, confusedly focusing on an irritated and exasperated Tony Stark.

"What?"

"Were you listening Capsicle? We're discussing the term of your lease. Unless you want to get kicked out of the tower, listen up." Stark replied.

"Oh really, after you begged me for months to move in for good?" Steve asked, one eyebrow quirked smugly.

"Oh, he begged you too?" Dr. Bruce Banner said, smiling. "I thought I was the only one who got special treatment."

"Shush," Stark motioned to Banner, turning and taking his spot at the front of the table. "I did not beg anyone. I simply pointed out that it would be simpler for all of us to live in the same building at least part of the year. And you got to admit, this place is pretty sweet." He reached out to take a tumbler of scotch from the robot next to him. "Thank you DUMMI." The robot turned left the room before a crash sounded and Tony winced.

"Oh yes, very sweet. With only one malfunctioning and sentient robot wandering around." Banner quipped, grinning.

"Only one," Tony echoed, "I cannot figure out what the hell is wrong with that damn-JARVIS?"

"Yes sir," came the British AI's voice, only slightly jolting Steve. After a year of living off and on at the tower, he really should be used to JARVIS by now. Steve supposed that the disembodied British voice of a computer coming from the ceiling would never seem normal.

"Shut DUMMI down. Run a full diagnostic." Stark sighed.

"Yes sir," JARVIS replied.

"Now, back to the matter at hand. I just figure it would be easier this way, and since half of you have been basically living here for the past year, I thought we'd make it official."

"Oh, how sweet." Agent Clint Barton chuckled from the other side of the table, "he wants to go steady." the table erupted into chuckles.

"Okay, that's it! Check your papers for your assignments and take the keys." Stark muttered, throwing up his hands.

"Oh no, we hurt his feelings. Tony, we didn't mean to! It's so unexpected, you haven't even let us wear your letterman's jacket yet!" Clint continued as Tony flung up his middle finger in response. The rest of the group grabbed their papers and retreated to their now designated areas of the found his floor sandwiched between Banner and Romanoff, sighing as the elevator doors opened to a huge living room, fully stocked kitchen and all of the technology he could ever want and could probably never figure out how to use.

Avenger Tower was never his first choice, but it was free, with the few people he knew in this era, and made him able to avoid paying what he considered absurd prices for an apartment of his own within the city. Even his old neighborhood was ridiculously priced, and full of strange looking young people touting mustaches and horn rimmed glasses. Avengers Tower was the better choice for now at least.

He smiled faintly, coming to the floor to ceiling windows that looked out on the New York City skyline. It had been nearly a century since it had been his home, and the city had changed, but at its core, it was still New York. Though he never pictured himself living in Manhattan, even in what felt like a previous lifetime before the serum, he couldn't deny that they view was fantastic.

He looked east, wondering if he could spot Charlotte's apartment from here. He hoped that she was okay. She had looked so pale yesterday, even when he had finally gotten her settled at her little apartment. He resisted the urge for the tenth time that day to go and check up on her, telling himself that doing so would probably just creep her out. Maybe he could call? He turned away from the window. No he couldn't. He'd never gotten her phone number. Steve was sure that Tony could probably track her and find out the details but there was no way in hell he was telling Tony about this girl and opening himself up to more ridicule.

No, he would just have to let her go for now. If she wanted to reach out, she had his address. Maybe he should have left his number as well. No, that would have been way too forward of him. Or maybe not. Exasperated, he plunked himself on the couch, surprised at the give in the hard looking cushions. He had no idea why he was so torn up over this girl. She was beautiful yes, but he had seen many beautiful women in his lifetime, though he hadn't been this immediately attracted to anyone since, well, since Peggy.

Charlotte was gorgeous, truly. When he turned that aisle, he never expected to see a petite young woman reaching for a truly horrendous yellow ball of yarn. Perfect curves, an apron cinching a narrow waist, skirt hugging rounded hips and revealing shapely legs from the knee down. When she fell backwards, he hadn't hesitated in reaching out to catch her, the serum kicking in. But holding her in his arms, that body, soft and fragrant, muddled his brain for a moment before she opened her eyes and revealed a large set of bright green eyes trimmed with thick, dark lashes.

She looked like something out of a magazine from his time; full high cheekbones, small nose and plump lips. Her dark hair had framed her face messily and he remembered how she looked at him before she realized what had happened, brows furrowed in confusion, lips just parted. He had wanted to kiss her then, but stopped himself, fully aware of how rude that would've been. Still, he regretted not tasting those lips. Then again in her apartment. He had been inches from a kiss before her friend had busted in.

Either way, it hadn't happened, and if he was honest with himself, it would have been completely wrong to kiss her in her state. She was concussed and not in her right mind, it would have been unfair and Steve would have been taking advantage of her. He sighed heavily, standing up to go back to the window, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. She probably hadn't even liked him that much. When she had seemingly leaned in for a kiss, she had probably just been woozy from the concussion. Worry took over again. He really hoped that she was alright.

**AN: Review please!**


	3. Apple Tarts

**AN: This chapter is quite a doozy. Very long, but we're getting into it now and finding out more and more about Charlotte and Steve. Hop you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing. **

The next morning I woke up bright and early, determined to make it work on time. Despite Stella's insistence that the shop was fine if I took another day off, I knew that she was bluffing. Stella was notorious for understaffing the shop and trying to do everything herself, which while admirable, was far from healthy for a 73 year old. I entered the store through the back, dropping off my package and things in the tiny break room.

"Stella?" I called out, wandering through to the front, noticing that my yarn catastrophe had been cleaned up and organized. I passed the offending footstool leaning against the aisle and hissed underneath my breath. Stupid thing.

"Charlotte? What are you doing here?" I came to the front to see Stella, sitting at her spot on the counter, flipping casually through an issue of Cosmo. She looked up at me in confusion and concern. "You should still be in bed! You had a concussion!"

"Yes, I had a concussion, but it wasn't a bad one, I promise. I'm fine now, Steph even cleared me for work." Stella looked reluctant but nodded.

"Fine. But nothing crazy for you today young lady. The balls of mustard are still waiting to be reskeined. Do you think you could handle that today?" Stella asked, obviously still concerned, watching me carefully for signs of faintness. I sighed.

"Yes, Stella. As much as its going to crush my soul to stare at mustard yellow yarn for a few hours, I can definitely handle it." Stella grinned.

"There's my Charlotte. Go and head out back, they've been stacked in the storeroom. I'll let you know if I need any help back here," she picked up her Cosmo and began reading again. I trudged back to the storeroom, setting up a station for reskeining the mustard yellow yarn.

Just as I suspected. She hadn't asked anyone else to come in and probably hadn't covered my shift yesterday either. I sighed heavily. The woman, while totally badass and independent, was getting older. I worried about her a lot, here all the time, alone. There were only a few of us other than Stella and I who were in on a regular basis. Mary had just gone on maternity leave, Joanne was sketchy at best and Peter was frankly only useful during the holidays. It was just Stella and I most of the time, which was fine as long as I wasn't incapacitated, which with my level of clumsiness was more often than would be expected.

My shift ended much sooner than I expected, and with a surprising amount of mustard yellow balls created from 3 huge skeins of mustard yellow. Joanne came into the storeroom to find me surrounded by mustard yellow and took two steps back immediately.

"Help me," I begged. Joanne shook her head, one ample hip cocked to the side, fist resting on it.

"Honey there is no help for the wicked," she muttered, her thick hispanic accent hanging on each word.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "I haven't been any more wicked than usual." I rose, trying to maneuver my way out of the fields of mustard yellow. Joanne offered her hand to help me over a particularly high mound.

"Oh yes you have. Captain America comes in here and walks you home and you don't tell anyone?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

"Joanne, I've been concussed for the past day! I wasn't even allowed to knit!" She waved her hand at me dismissively. "Which, by the way, how the hell do you know that Captain America was in the store?"

"How else? Stella told me! She said she was so excited when he came in but barely restrained herself from making a fuss over it. And then you got hurt and she didn't want to disrupt the 'instant chemistry.'" I scoffed.

"Chemistry. Okay." I said skeptically, collecting balls of mustard yellow and tossing them into a nearby box.

"Oh yes honey. Stella said that when he came from the yarn aisle with you in his arms, SHE almost fainted. Said she was worried about the two of you going anywhere near the paper products in the front in case you spontaneously combusted. That's how much chemistry there was." Joanne explained, hands moving wildly as she followed me back to the break room.

"No, there was no chemistry. He's a nice guy, a gentleman, but that's it." I told her, shrugging on my coat and picking up the box of treats I had put together for Steve.

"Mhmm," Joanne said unconvincingly, "Then who are those treats for? I can smell them from here. Apple pie?"

"No, its not apple pie. And it's also none of your business." I picked up the box and swept out the door.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do! No, do the things! Do all the things! He's Captain fricken America!" she called out after me. I shook my head and waved goodbye, making my way down the block. I was going uptown this evening. Someone at Avengers Tower deserved a visit.

* * *

><p>It was surprisingly easy to get into the main level of Avengers Tower, east coast home of Stark Industries. What wasn't easy was getting past the head of security who had been called out when I told them that I had something for Steve Rogers. Harold, or "Happy" Hogan, a name I saw endless amounts of irony in, was not going to let me anywhere near Steve until I explained in full why I was there, the full ingredient list of the treats in the white bakery box and the nature of my relationship with one of the Avengers, who he solemnly had sworn to protect only a year earlier, as he had explained to me at length.<p>

"I'm telling you. Steve-"

"Captain Steve Rogers," Happy interrupted.

"Captain Steve Rogers visited the craft store that I work at on Monday. I took a fall while he was there and injured myself. Concerned for my well being, Steve-Captain Steve Rogers," I corrected quickly, "walked me to my apartment to make sure that I was okay. So I decided to bring him some presents to thank him. That's all."

"And what's inside the box?" he asked.

"None of your business." I replied. Happy turned a shade of purple I had previously believed to only exist in Crayola 64 pack crayons.

"I am the head of security in this building ma'am. I need to know what is inside this box before I give you any sort of clearance!" he shouted.

"Yes, please, tell us what's in the box," came a voice from behind him that almost made my heart stop. Tony Stark appeared at Happy's side, signature sunglasses perched on a well tanned and aristocratic nose, sly smirk on his lips. If I had ever thought that Tony Stark was not Ironman, I would have changed my mind then and there. The man exuded bad boy, power, and wealth. He turned the smirk on me and my mouth went dry. Tony Stark was an incredibly attractive man, well aware of his charms and I immediately felt like a deer in headlights. Very expensive, probably Lamborghini headlights.

"So. What's in the box?" he picked it up and sniffed, "Smells good. Apple pie?" I shook my head. "Huh, could've sworn. What's this girl doing here Happy?"

"She's trying to deliver whatever is in the box to Rogers. Claims that he saved her life yesterday and she wants to say thank you." Tony rolled his eyes.

"Well not exactly. He was helpful, but I don't think I would've died if he hadn't been there," I muttered, finally recovering my senses. Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Really? See Happy, if she was one of the fangirl legions she would've told you that he saved her life cuz she jumped off a bridge or something. What'd Capsicle do for you that's got you bringing him pastries?"

"I gave myself a concussion at work. I'm kind of a klutz." I admitted sheepishly. "He was there and walked me home. I was kind of a bitch to him that day so I thought that I would bring him some baked goods. He left this note when I woke up the next morning." I offered the note and Tony took it, reading it carefully, "It had this address on it so I came here to say thank you. I was simply asking if Steve was here before the rest of your security team sicced sunshine over here on me." Tony smirked and looked at me for a second. It was slightly unnerving, that direct stare. You could practically see the gears turning and spinning within his mind. Turning and spinning at supersonic speeds that is. He grinned, standing and replacing his shades.

"Let her in." he told Happy, "Restrict her access to Steve's floor." as Happy sputtered he turned back to me. "I like you kid. Don't know why, but I do. What's in the box?"

"None of your business," I replied matter of factly. Tony chuckled softly and turned to leave.

"Yeah, I like her." he muttered.

Even with Tony Stark's apparent approval, Happy still ran me through the gamut of security protocols. Getting through customs would have been easier. A half an hour later I had been handed my own badge and whisked onto a huge glass elevator. Clutching my shiny new badge and white bakery box, I began to second guess my decision on coming here. After all, the last time I saw Steve I insulted him multiple times, fell an embarrassing amount, and almost kissed him without any real reason. Steve was a gentleman. Just because he walked me home and brought my stuff back, that didn't mean that he liked me. And for god sakes, he's Captain America. He could literally have any woman. Ever. Like Tony said earlier, the fangirl legions would jump off bridges to get with him. There's no way he was even remotely interested. At this point I looked up and realized that I had been pacing the huge elevator and the bakery box in my hands was looking a little worse for wear. I groaned and leaned back against the back glass wall of the elevator.

"This is a huge mistake." I muttered.

"No mistake miss, you're headed to the correct floor. Captain Rogers is situated on the 29th floor, estimated time of arrival 1 minute." came a proper sounding British voice from the ceiling. I jumped and stood ramrod straight, searching the elevator ceiling for camera's.

"Hello?" I asked softly, "Is somebody watching?"

"Sorry miss, I did not introduce myself. I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark's personal AI and operating system for the tower, though I do not have any visual capabilities I am able to monitor your heat signature and vital signs." the voice replied congenially.

"His AI...so you're a robot?" I wondered aloud.

"In a way miss. I control the technological aspects of Tower, security or otherwise. I am here to answer any questions the Avengers or any of their guests may have," he replied.

"Huh. JARVIS?"

"Yes Miss."

"Is this a bad idea?"

"Do you wish to go back to floor level Miss?"

"No. Well, yes. I don't know." I answered hesitantly.

"Mr. Rogers is currently not in his apartment if that's what you are concerned about," JARVIS replied, and I could swear that I heard a hint of amusement in his voice. I took a deep breath. "And you've arrived Miss. Level 29." the doors swung open. "Simply ask if you are of need of anything" said JARVIS, " Mr. Rogers is currently on the training level and has been notified of your arrival."

"Thanks JARVIS," I said as I stepped out of the elevator and into the huge apartment in front of me. The place was sparse, almost completely chrome and white and very obviously unlived in. It certainly was large, but for the life of me I couldn't imagine Steve here. It just seemed so...empty.

I walked through the huge foyer and living room, past a beautiful kitchen, my heels clacking on the marble floors. Huge, plate glass floor to ceiling windows made up the entire far wall, looking out onto all of Manhattan. It was a killer view, and as I wandered around I noticed a stray sock, a pair of well taken care of leather shoes and a leather jacket slung over a chair at the dining room table. I smiled, remembering how the leather had felt against my shoulder as Steve had walked me home earlier that week. As I made my way around the dining room table (completely made out of glass and chrome) I froze, noticing a large metal shield leaning against the far wall. Captain America's red white and blue freedom shield sat, mocking me and pulling me back to reality. This was a mistake. He was Captain fricken America and I was some klutzy 27 year old wanderer with no goals or achievements who had injured herself in front of him, insulted him and was now wandering unsupervised around his apartment.

"This is insane," I muttered. I dropped the bakery box on the table, left my hastily scribbled note on top and began making my way to the elevator. I had dropped off my gifts, said thank you in my note: my job was done. If he wanted to contact me, its not like he didn't know where I worked or where I lived. The whole fact that I was there was frankly more than absurd. As I reached the top of the steps leading to the elevator, the doors swung open and there stood a sweaty, tall, incredibly handsome Steve Rogers in sweatpants, sneakers and a white shirt, looking appropriately shocked to see someone wandering around his apartment.

"Uh...hi?" I said, feeling an awful lot like Cinderella frozen on on the steps post pumpkin transformation. Steve continued to look shocked as he tossed a white towel over one broad shoulder, stepping out of the elevator. "I came to say thank you. Tony, um, said I could come up, which Happy was not pleased about, but he let me in anyway after grilling me and taking my fingerprints for some strange reason, and JARVIS said you weren't in so I was just going to drop off a note and a thank you present and then you came in and well, that's where we're at." I stopped to take a breath, "And that was a ridiculous amount of rambling. I'll just go now." I made my way to the elevator, my face on fire and head down. Steve reached out and grabbed my arm gently, pulling me back.

"Charlotte," he said, his tone light, "Charlotte, look at me." Reluctantly I looked up slowly to see Steve smiling at me, a half smile that revealed a top row of perfect white teeth. Of course his dental hygiene was on point as well. Could he get any more perfect?

"I'm glad you came by. I was actually debating coming over to the shop to check in on you." he passed in front of me, heading down the steps into the living room. "Come on in. I just got back from the gym, so I'm not exactly fresh. Give me a sec to shower and change and I'll be right out." He turned back to look at me, still frozen on the top step. He grinned encouragingly, walking back towards me. "Please, come in, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable. The couch is softer than it looks. I'll be right back." He looked up at me from the bottom step. His expression fell a little bit. "Unless you have to go? Are you late for work? Do you need a ride?" he climbed the steps toward me, now looking concerned and unsure. I couldn't help but smile.

"No, boy scout, I don't need a ride. I already did my shift today." Steve smiled at the 'boy scout' comment I followed him back down the steps.

"Okay. I'll be right back I promise." He jogged into what I assumed was the bedroom before turning back once more. "Don't leave, okay?" he checked hesitantly. I grinned and shook off my coat.

"I won't, I promise," I chuckled. He flashed me a bright smile and disappeared again behind a doorway. I heard the shower running faintly and draped my coat over one of the white dining room table chairs, settling once more to do a little wandering. Peeking inside the kitchen, I was immediately distracted by beautiful appliances, an incredibly well stocked fridge and cabinets full of all of the kitchen gadgets anyone could ever want. The chef inside of me turned green in envy as I ran my hands over a beautiful top of the line Kitchenaid stand mixer.

"Ugh, much want," I groaned softly.

"Want what?" I turned to find Steve drying his hair, now fully dressed in a pair of khakis and plaid button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbow revealing a set of truly impressive forearms.

"Uh, the Kitchenaid mixer," I admitted sheepishly, "I like to bake and I've always wanted a Kitchenaid mixer but they're insanely expensive." I walked over to the table, "Someday I plan on owning a fire engine red one. Someday when I eventually have the counterspace for it." I picked up the bakery box and offered it to Steve. "But for now, this is for you." Steve's eyebrows raised and he smirked.

"For me? Really?" he took the box gingerly, "A little heavy, what's in here?"

"That my friend seems to have been the question of the day," he sent me a puzzled look, and I shook my head, "Just open it."

Hi pulled off the bakery string and opened the box, revealing two rows of small, square apple tarts.

"Apple tarts?" he asked, grinning.

"Yeah. I thought about an apple pie but figured it was just too cliche."

"Cliche?"

"Yeah, Captain America. As american as apple pie? It just seemed too easy."

"So you made apple tarts," he chuckled softly, "They smell delicious."

"Hopefully they taste delicious. I haven't tested this recipe yet. Go ahead, try one. Don't worry, Happy already tested them for poison." Once again, Steve looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. "Don't worry about it." He took one an tasted it gingerly, a look of intense concentration on his face. He took one bite, then another, still thinking carefully.

"Are they okay? If not, that's completely fine, I understand. I probably added too much cinnamon. I tend to go heavy on the spices when it comes to anything apple flavored-" I stopped as Steve grinned and looked up at me.

"Charlotte, these are absolutely delicious," he said earnestly, taking another bite. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank god. There should be something else in there, underneath the wax paper." Steve pulled back the paper carefully, pulling out two sketch pads and a set of drawing pencils. "I thought that you came in the store for a those and you never got a chance to get them, so…" I trailed off sheepishly. Steve smiled and set the sketchpads aside.

"Thanks Charlotte, this is incredibly thoughtful, but I'm not sure why you brought these to me." he tore another piece off of the tart, examining it before putting in his mouth.

"Well, I really came to apologize. I was a complete jerk on Monday, and you were honestly just trying to be nice. I was not nice to you and even though I was concussed, that's no excuse. And then you went and brought my stuff back to my apartment for me and I just wanted to thank you," I explained. He smiled at me winningly.

"There's really no apology necessary. I would've done the same for anyone. You practically fell into my arms, I couldn't resist," he said, a faint blush touching his cheeks. I smiled.

"Yeah, I was just really lucky that you were there or I probably would have actually ended up in the hospital."

"You are feeling better, right? I wanted to check in, but I wasn't sure how appropriate that would be," he asked, concerned and slightly embarrassed, "I'm not really up to date on 21st century etiquette**." **

"I'm feeling much better. Steph cleared me for work this morning so I'm all set. It really wasn't that bad of a concussion, though the bump on the back of my head begs to differ." I reached back, touching the lump tenderly.

"Well, I'm glad that you're feeling better. I felt so guilty leaving you there like that, but I really wasn't sure what to do. Things are so different than they used to be, and it already felt like I was intruding. I mean, you didn't want me to walk you home or anything, but I couldn't just let you go without-" I reached out, placing my hand on his arm to calm his rambling, smiling up at him.

"Steve, it really was fine. I should've been less of a jerk. What you did was really nice, and something the world could do with a bit more of. That's why I came tonight. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, and thank you for taking such good care of me." His forearm was warm, soft dark blond hairs covering pale skin. I looked up at him, his blue eyes capturing my attention and snapping me back to reality. I withdrew my hand quickly and stood.

"And now that I've crossed that off my to-do list I should probably get going." I grabbed my coat and headed for the elevator. Steve was right behind me though and reached me on the top step of the stairs.

"Charlotte wait," he climbed the steps, rising to my level. "I just wanted to thank you for the tarts. And the sketchpads," realizing that his hand was still on my arm he dropped it, standing awkwardly.

"Oh, well, you're welcome," I murmured, similarly unsure of what to do with my hands. I reached out and patted his bicep awkwardly before blushing and turning away, but before I could, I felt him grab my hand.

"Charlotte, I-" he began and then stopped, seemingly unsure of how to continue.

"Yes, Steve? I asked, turning to face him.

"Well, I was just wondering if- I mean, if you wanted…" he trailed off hesitantly, looking down and blushing. I grinned. Captain America was nervously trying to ask me out and it was probably the cutest thing I had ever seen.

"Come on Blue eyes, if you can fight off an alien invasion, you can ask an already willing girl out on a date," I prodded, smiling up at him. His head popped up, looking confused and then breaking out into a million-watt grin. He cleared his throat.

"Charlotte, would you like to go to dinner with me sometime? Tomorrow maybe?" he asked, taking my other hand in his. I smiled and bit my lip.

"I'd like that quite a bit," I murmured. A look of relief passed over his face before he grinned again.

"Good. I'll come pick you up around 7?" he asked.

"Yeah, that sounds good." I hiked my bag back up onto my shoulder, and let go of his hand, ready to make my way to the elevator.

"Oh, and Charlotte," I turned back to find myself suddenly wrapped in two strong arms, a large hand on the back of my neck and two perfect lips against mine. His lips were warm and soft on mine, slowly moving, savoring each second, sending shivers straight down my spine. I shuddered quickly and brought my hands up to a pair of strong broad shoulders as he brought my body closer to his. Warmth washed through me as he deepened the kiss, his firm body pressed against mine. I let out a little sigh of satisfaction, and he broke the kiss to look into my eyes briefly, holding my face in his hand.

"Thanks for the tarts," he murmured, turning me towards the elevator. I stumbled forward, dazed and stepped in, turning back to face him. He smiled, "I'll see you tomorrow, Charlotte." I waved faintly as the doors closed and stood there for a second, bringing a hand up to touch my now sensitive lips, the taste of him lingering there.

"Miss?" JARVIS's voice broke me from my trance.

"Yes?"

"Which floor miss?"

"Oh, uh, ground level I suppose."

"Very good miss"

I leaned back against the wall, still in a state of shock. I had a date tomorrow. A date with Captain America. The same Captain America who had just kissed me senseless. A stupid grin covered my face as I stepped out of the elevator.

"Goodnight JARVIS."

"Goodnight Miss."

Happy watched me stride through the lobby. I held up my badge.

"I'll be keeping this for a bit," I said smugly as I stepped out onto the street. I had a feeling I'd be needing it in the future.

**AN: Whew, long chapter. Hope you all enjoyed! Please review!**


	4. Second Thoughts

**AN: Hello all! I'm so happy about the response this has been getting so far! I'm really getting into the nitty gritty of the story in my writing process so I'm excited to start sharing those chapters with you guys soon, but for now...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. :(**

"I hate you, you know that right?"

"Mm-hmm, I am well aware," I answered Steph, flinging another piece of clothing out of my overstuffed closet.

"You are going on a date tonight with Captain America. The Captain America, red white and blue shield wielding , patriotic, frozen in the ice, saved the world multiple times Captain America," Steph continued, sitting on the edge of my unmade bed in the middle of my war zone of a bedroom.

"His name is Steve Rogers," I countered, "He is just a normal, very handsome, unusually strong guy, who happens to also be a superhero." I groaned in realization, emerging from my closet.

"This is a terrible idea," I said, falling back onto my bed, grabbing a pillow to cover my face.

"No. No, this not a terrible idea. This is a good idea," Steph said reassuringly, tearing the pillow from my hands. I threw an arm over my eyes in response. "You said that he kissed you, that he was happy to see you. Obviously he likes you or I'm sure he would've just kicked you out. And you brought him baked goods. No one can resist your baking," she reasoned.

"Maybe. Or maybe he just felt bad because I brought him the thank you gifts. Maybe he was just being polite. Maybe they kissed more in the 1940's, I don't know!" I sprung up, throwing my hands in the air.

"You're being ridiculous," Steph murmured.

"I am not. Did you see him when he was here on Monday? Well I did, and then I saw him again last night and he was even more perfect when I wasn't concussed. He was polite and sweet and bashful and he has these forearms," I groaned, turning back to my closet and clenching my fists.

"Forearms?" Steph asked, bewildered.

"Yes, forearms. You know when really cute guys have these manly forearms, especially when their sleeves are rolled up?" I plopped on the bed next to her, holding out my own arms for reference, "See, girl forearms are just not that attractive, they're too skinny. I mean comparing it to the whole idea of female legs would be a closer equivalent.

"So men's forearms are the equivalent to our legs?" Steph asked, still very puzzled.

"Yes! See its not really indecent to show off your legs and men still appreciate them. They're like a non-indecent but still really sexy thing right? Well forearms are like that for men. You can tell a lot about a guy based on the shape of his forearms. Skinny or too pale or not very hairy, they tend to be reflective of what the rest of the body is like and you don't feel weird ogling them."

"No, not weird at all," Steph murmured disbelievingly.

"You think I'm crazy, but its important. Look at Tim's forearms the next time you see him. Tim has nice forearms, thats how I knew he'd be good for you," I rambled on, referencing Steph's longtime boyfriend Tim.

"Uh huh." Steph muttered, "And what do Steve's forearms tell you?"

"That he's perfect. He just has these muscled, strong looking forearms that are just the right level of hairy, and you can just faintly see veins running underneath, so you know he's strong but not too bulked up. And they lead to these huge hands, with long fingers and wide palms and-" I shuddered and closed my eyes, remembering just how they felt underneath my hand the night before.

"Well aside from your intense fetish for forearms, what else is making you think this is a bad idea?" Steph asked, shaking me from my memory.

"What else? What's making you think this is a good idea? He's Captain fucking America. He's perfect. He could have any girl he wanted and he picks the one who insulted him and then broke into his apartment?!" I exclaimed, laying back on the bed. Steph joined me, grabbing my hand in hers.

"Obviously, he picked you because he likes you. What in the world makes you think that you're not good enough for Captain America?" she asked looking at me. I stood up and motioned to my body.

"This. This makes me think that I'm not good enough for Captain America. I'm too short, too fat, my hips are too big and I believe my ass might have gained an orbiting planet this fall!" I exclaimed. Steph sat up and frowned at me.

"You my friend, are full of shit. I'd give my left arm for an ass like yours. You have shapes, curves! And damn girl, your boobs are just fantastic." I raised my hand to my D cups self consciously. Steph stood grabbing my hands and facing me. "You are gorgeous. Bombshell level and you're so smart, Miss PhD! And obviously he already gets your wit if he doesn't mind being called 'boy scout' every five minutes. He likes you." she squeezed my hands reassuringly. "Now, lets find something devastatingly sexy for you to wear. You have plenty of pieces in here to play up sexy but classy and that's exactly what you need for tonight." She pulled out a navy dress, knee length, that I hadn't worn in ages. "Here, put this on. Wear the red heels, curl your hair and put on some sexy underwear. Oh! And a garter belt!" she exclaimed, running over to my dresser.

"I am not wearing a garter belt or sexy underwear on a first date," I replied, taking the blue dress from her hands and examining it carefully.

"Well, technically, its a third date. Concussion, break-in and then tonight," she said, ticking off her fingers while rummaging through my underwear drawer. "And either way, just because you're wearing sexy underwear doesn't mean you have to show anyone. It's an instant confidence booster, like red nail polish on your toes or a nice red lip. Ah! Found 'em!" she tossed my garter belt at me and grinned, "There you go. Just put that stuff on and get ready. It's almost 6 and I've got to get to the hospital. Text me tomorrow and I'll come over to get all of the sordid details." She walked over, pulled me into a hug and pecked my cheek softly before hurrying out the door.

"Bye!" I called out before sitting back on my bed and looking into the mirror on my vanity, feeling completely overwhelmed, clutching the navy dress in one hand, my favorite garter belt in the other.

* * *

><p>Steve sat at the round table in the common room of the tower, sketchpad in hand, staring out at the New York City skyline thoughtfully. The city was relatively calm, sun shining and reflecting off of the buildings, the sky a clear robin's egg blue. It would be a great day to sketch the city, but looking down at the sketchpad in his lap, Steve instead saw Charlotte's face staring up at him, a soft smile on her plump lips. Steve sighed and set down his pencil.<p>

Like some sort of miracle, she had been there last night, standing in his apartment like a gift. He had been thinking about her all that day, taking out three consecutive punching bags before engaging in a particularly challenging sparring match with Natasha to calm his nerves. Nothing had seemed to distract him. In fact, he had been going up to his apartment that evening, ready to head over the shop to check in on her and maybe get the chance to speak to her again. But then she had been there, standing on the top step of the stairs, looking ridiculously cute and guilty, like she had been caught in the act of some crime.

He smiled softly to himself. JARVIS had notified him that someone had been allowed into his quarters, but he had just thought that Tony had showed up and overridden the security code to bug him again. When he saw her, ruby red coat slung over her arm, dark hair pulled up halfway and curled softly, gray sweater covering slender arms, buttoned at her narrow waist, in a black skirt made out of some kind of light fabric that seemed to flutter every time she moved.

Thankfully she had begun rambling, allowing Steve to gather his wits again. She was adorable when she spoke, expressively using both hands to punctuate points. He vaguely remembered her mentioning Tony and Happy before she stopped, seeming to remember herself and Steve snapped back to attention just in time to intercept her before she disappeared again. He couldn't let her just leave. Now that he had her there, talking to him, standing right in front of him.

She had brought him pastries and sketchpads, and while the thought was so incredibly sweet, he had sat speaking to her for the majority of that time just thrilled that she was there. When she tried to leave again, he couldn't just let her go without asking her out. He couldn't leave that to chance again. However, it had been almost a century since he had last asked a woman on a date. He had never even been on a date without Bucky there to arrange it. Reading him like a book, she seemed to encourage him, giving him that last boost of confidence,

"_Come on Blue Eyes, if you can fight off an alien invasion, you can ask an already willing girl out on a date"_

He grinned, remembering her tempting smirk, bright green eyes teasing him. Her encouragement had made all the difference, giving him the confidence to steal a kiss before she left. She had been so responsive, so pliable in his arms; all soft flesh and curves. He couldn't help but pull her closer, feel that lush little body against his. It had been entirely out of character, but he had been wanting it since he caught her in the craft shop on Monday and she didn't seem to mind as he directed her to the elevator and watched the doors close.

Doubts needled him now though. Maybe she hadn't known how to respond, maybe he had been too forceful and hadn't given her a chance to say no. He had never stolen a kiss like that, and in his time, he could have easily been slapped for taking action like that with a woman he barely knew. His hands tightened on the arms of the chair. But she liked him, she had said yes to the date, and had been so responsive, so maybe the kiss had been fine.

He shook off those doubts before realizing slowly that she had in fact said yes to the date. The date that was supposed to happen tonight. That he needed to plan. Panic took over. He hadn't taken anyone on a date in 70 years. Fully panicking now, he scanned the room, wondering if there was anyone here who wouldn't ridicule him for asking for dating advice.

Clint lay on the couch, laptop resting on his stomach, huge black headphones covering his ears. Clint was out. The archer was a nice enough guy, but he had a penchant for teasing that was rivaled only by Tony. Natasha lay on the chair opposite him, legs flung over the side, and was flipping through a torn copy of _Anna Karenina_. Possibly. The woman had a level head and would be able to give him a female opinion, but Steve didn't know how comfortable he felt discussing manners of the heart with a woman on his team. Dr. Banner sat at the other end of the table, bent over a Stark laptop, a set of horn rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Maybe.

Before Steve could speak up, the elevator doors opened and in strode Tony Stark. Swearing internally, Steve bowed his head in hopes that Tony wouldn't notice him, but he had no such luck, as the billionaire made a beeline for him.

"Hey! Spangles! Who was your visitor last night?" Stark asked.

"None of you business, Stark" Steve replied, turning to face the window once more.

"Uh-uh. I gave her security clearance, I get to know her name," Stark replied, taking a seat next to him. Steve sighed heavily and turned toward him.

"Fine. Her name's Charlotte. She works in a craft shop on the lower east side and I happened to be in the store when she accidentally gave herself a concussion. She came over last night to say thank you, and that is all you need to know." Stark hurrumped loudly, drawing Bruce's attention. Natasha sat up in her chair, turning to face the table and setting her book down.

"She came to thank you, huh?" Stark wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, "And just how did she thank you Cap? Full salute?" Stark smirked.

"No Tony, she brought me some baked goods and sketchpads, that's all." Steve responded through clenched teeth. Tony slapped the table resoundingly.

"Aha! That's what was in the box! I knew it! What were the baked goods? Apple pie? It smelled like apple pie." Tony accused knowingly.

"It wasn't apple pie," Steve answered. Tony deflated a bit.

"Then what was it Uncle Sam? She make enough to share?"

"It's none of your business Tony." Steve muttered, his patience wearing thin.

"Aw, didn't taste good? Is she a health nut? Gluten free paleo something or other?" Tony got up and began to pace, "Wouldn't peg her as a health nut. Not with those curves." he smirked knowingly and Steve felt his control snap. Before he punched Stark through his own plate glass window, Steve stood and marched out the door, punching the button to his elevator and disappearing back to his quarters.

"What? What'd I do?" Tony asked the room. Bruce sighed and shook his head, turning back to his work. Natasha shook her head and walked over to the table, gently placing her hand on Tony's arm.

"Tony, I'm sure you've been told this before, but you're an idiot." She grabbed the sketchpad Steve had left on table and started toward the elevator, leaving Tony in a momentary state of shock.

"Floor 29 please JARVIS. Let Steve know I'm on my way."

"Right away ma'am."

The doors swung open to Steve's apartment and Natasha saw the Captain standing at his window, back turned.

"I'm really not in the mood Stark. You better suit up before you step in here," he said, his eyes never leaving the window.

"Should I suit up Cap?" Natasha asked softly. Steve turned and sighed.

"No, Nat, that won't be necessary. I'm sorry about before. I just can't handle Tony when he gets like that," he admitted. Natasha made her way into the main room.

"Completely understandable. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Tony's an idiot. But, I thought you might want this back before he got his hands on it." She offered him the sketchpad. Steve winced and took it.

"I completely forgot about it. Thanks," he smiled at her gratefully.

"She's pretty. Really gorgeous," Natasha took a seat on the white couch, lounging, seemingly completely relaxed, though Steve knew that every muscle in the agents carefully honed body was constantly at the ready, no matter how languidly she seemed to move throughout the tower.

"Kind eyes," she continued, "and she seems very sweet. Though I got that from your picture of her so maybe you're a little biased," Natasha continued, smiling knowingly at the super soldier. Steve smiled and took a seat on the couch opposite her.

"Maybe, but she is really sweet, tough, but sweet. She actually brought me that sketchpad last night, along with apple tarts that she baked for me. She seemed to think that she was rude to me when we met."

"Rude? How so?" Natasha asked.

"She wasn't too excited to have me following her home after she got hurt. I couldn't just leave her there, she was so concussed she could barely walk straight. But she seemed determined to get home on her own. She should have gone to the hospital, but she wouldn't let me take her. She's tough is all. Independent," Steve smiled softly at the memory, looking up at Natasha, "She didn't know my name so she kept calling me 'blue eyes' and 'boy scout'. It was cute." Natasha smiled.

"I like her already."

"You would. She's little, but strong. You two would get along," Steve responded, his face falling slightly as his doubts began creeping back.

"What's wrong Steve?" Natasha asked.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," Steve responded too quickly. Natasha raised one eyebrow suspiciously, and Steve sighed, "I just-you have to promise not to laugh."

"Okay, I promise. What's going on?" Steve paused, choosing his words carefully.

"I asked her out on a date last night. We're supposed to go out tonight and I honestly have no idea what to do," he admitted quietly.

"Haven't you ever been on a date before?" Natasha asked gently.

"Never on my own," Steve responded quietly.

"Never?"

"No, not really. Whenever I went out before the serum, it was always with Bucky. And none of the girls wanted to spend time with me, they wanted a war hero, someone who could protect them, you know? Then after the serum, I was too busy fighting a war. After they took me out of the ice we had the New York invasion, and ever since I just haven't found anyone I was interested in," he explained, becoming more and more serious. Natasha smiled softly, placing a hand on his arm.

"That's perfectly understandable Cap. Nothing to be ashamed of." She sat up, mood changing to one of optimistic determination.

"So what do you need help with? Need help with finding a place to go, dating etiquette, what?" she replied, sounding cheerful and upbeat. Steve looked up to see the super spy smiling encouragingly at him. He smiled and sighed in relief.

"Honestly, I need help with everything Nat. I'm a little lost here." he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "Do I go and pick her up or does she come here? Do I pay for everything or do we split? Do women still like to have doors opened for them? Can I kiss her at the end of the night or will she expect something else? Where do you even go on a date in this town, there are so many options?" Steve rambled on until Natasha sat back, her hands raised to stop him.

"Whoa, whoa Cap, hold on. Most of this stuff is still just common sense. Talk to her, ask her if she wants to split things or where she wants to go. Most women nowadays appreciate doors being opened for them, little things that seem normal to you are pretty special now so you've got that as an advantage. Just be yourself." Natasha reassured him, "Take a breath and calm down. Now, tell me everything you know about her and we'll figure out the perfect date."

**AN: Let me know what you think! :)**


	5. First Date

**AN: It's finally here you guys! The date! This date chapter got MONSTER long and is probably going to be split in almost 3 huge chapters. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except for Charlotte, who's pretty awesome. **

"How the hell did people wear these every day?!" I exclaimed after tearing a hole in my second pair of thigh highs. It was nearly 7:00, and after struggling with my hair for a solid 30 minutes and trying two different makeup looks, I was running out of time. Knowing Steve, he would be early and as I pulled on my third pair of thigh highs as gingerly but as quickly as I could, I could feel the frantic panic begin to build up in my system. Finally managing to clip my thigh high into my garter I rose, emerging into my living room only to be faced with a complete mess. Magazines haphazardly laying all over the place, take out containers on the coffee table, clothes strewn all over the place, my apartment was in a state of chaos.

"Shit."

Frantically I raced around my apartment, shoving clothes back into my room, throwing trash into my already overfilled trash bag in the kitchen and attempting to make my magazines look like there was some sort of order to them. In the middle of shooing Penelope into the kitchen while simultaneously trying to pick up her cat hair from the couch with a makeshift lint roller made from a bunch of duct tape wrapped around my hand, the buzzer rang.

"Double shit!" I cursed under my breath and ran for the telecom, pressing the button hurriedly.

"Hello?" I asked, trying to keep the panic from my tone.

"Charlotte? It's me, Steve. Can I come up or should I wait down here?" I heard Steve's deep voice rumble nervously over the telecom and couldn't help but smile.

"Of course, come on up," I pressed the button to let him in quickly, not realizing that I did so with the hand still wrapped in duct tape. I released the com button, and desperately tried to detach myself from the wall, where the duct tape had fused to the buzzer.

"Motherfuck-oh!"I finally managed to get my hand off of the buzzer, only to tumble back and bump into the arm of the couch, stumbling back and falling onto the cushions.

"Well, at least it was a soft landing," I murmured to myself as a knock sounded on the door. Damn, Blue Eyes was fast. I stood, ripping the offending duct tape from my hand and tossing it in the now empty trash can. I straightened myself out, looking in the mirror quickly.

I had followed Steph's advice and curled my hair gently, leaving it down around my shoulders. The blue knee length dress fit well, a sweetheart neckline revealing just a bit of cleavage and cinching at my waist before flaring out softly. I had gone for an extra confidence boost, painting my lips a defiant and warm red. I took a deep breath and nodded at the mirror, steadying myself and opening the door.

"Hi Steve," I smiled, taking in the man towering above me. Steve looked just like he had the day before, button down shirt tucked into perfectly pressed khakis, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, well worn leather jacket slung over one arm. He smiled at me, a combination of soft lips quirking up over perfectly white teeth, clear blue eyes twinkling. The man was gorgeous and I couldn't help but feel heat pool low in my stomach at the sight of him.

"Hi Charlotte," he said. I had stepped forward a bit, unconsciously moving toward him before we both seemed to realize ourselves at the same time, Steve bringing a bouquet out from behind his back, and me stepping back and opening the door further. He cleared his throat nervously, "For you." he mumbled sheepishly, thrusting the flowers towards me. I accepted them gladly, stepping back more to let him in.

"Thank you Steve, they're beautiful. Come in, come in." I murmured, sticking my nose into the fragrant blooms. I motioned for him to come in, rushing around him to get into the kitchen. "I'll just put these in some water. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable," I motioned to the now cat hair free couch and scurried into the kitchen to grab a vase, arranging the mixed wildflower blooms, taking in the scent of the autumn colored bouquet. Yellow and orange tiger lilies, red carnations, and large happy sunflowers looked up at me optimistically. I bent my head once more, taking in the scent before returning to the living room, placing the vase on now clear coffee table.

"They're gorgeous Steve," I sighed, setting them down. Steve blushed and smiled.

"I wasn't sure what kind of flower you liked, so I just got what looked like you," he admitted. I looked at him quizzically. A look of panic crossed his features and he stood abruptly, hands nervously fidgeting with his jacket.

"Well, not looked like you, I mean you don't look like a flower. Well, you do, I mean you're beautiful like a flower, but you don't have a green stem or anything, or petals. You kind of smell like a flower, in a good way of course-" I stepped toward him, placing a hand on his arm to stop his rambling.

"Blue eyes, take a breath. I get what you meant." I giggled softly, smiling up at him. He focused on me, taking that breath and smiling.

"I meant that they looked like you. Warm and sweet and happy. That's why I got them," he responded, brushing my hair back behind my ear, his long fingers lingering on my cheek, leaving the skin tingling slightly. I smiled at the compliment, stepping closer still and bringing his head down to mine, our lips touching for what I had meant to be a brief kiss, but as his warm lips touched mine, I could feel myself melting into him. He was so sweet, so kind, and felt so good against me. Finally recovering myself I broke the kiss, my hands still framing his face. I smiled breathlessly.

"Sunflowers."

"Huh?" he looked at me quizzically, eyes still dreamy from our kiss.

"Sunflowers. My favorite flowers are sunflowers. So you got lucky on that hunch." I chuckled and backed away, grabbing my sweater from the couch.

"So where are we off to tonight?" I asked a still dazed Steve. I smirked internally, filled with the knowledge that I had momentarily stunned him. He seemed to recover himself with a slight shake of his head.

"Uh, uptown. I know its a bit chilly now, but Central Park is still nice at this time of year," Steve walked toward the door, opening it and motioning me through. "I thought maybe we'd walk around a bit and then head to this little diner I've been visiting at least once a week for the past few months. They've got the best hamburgers this side of the island. If that sounds alright with you?" he paused on the stairs, looking back up at me to check for approval. I smiled, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"That sounds fantastic Steve." He grinned and continued down the steps, shrugging on his leather jacket. We exited the building and he lead me over to a huge motorcycle, swinging one leg over to straddle it. I stopped in my tracks.

"Um, is that yours?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be easier than taking the Subway to Central Park. Don't worry, I've got an extra helmet for you," he paused, taking in my hesitancy. "Have you ever been on a motorcycle?"

"No, not really. It's not very high on my bucket list either." I murmured, glued to my spot on the sidewalk. Steve dismounted from the bike, walking over to take my hands in his.

"Charlotte, we don't have to take the bike if you don't want to. I'm an excellent driver though. I promise that you'd be safe," he told me with a combination of fierceness and gentle reassurance I didn't think any other man would ever be able to pull off. My fears gnawed at me, digging a pit deep in my stomach.

"I just-I fell off of a bike when I was a kid. It's kind of ruined me for bikes or motorcycles. It's a stupid irrational fear though. Really dumb." I admitted quietly, so quietly I wondered if he had heard me. A long finger lifted my chin gently.

"Charlotte, it's perfectly understandable. We can grab a cab or the subway if you want." he said reassuringly. My mind fought against my fears, part of me wanting to give in and just grab a cab, the other, more adult part of me screaming at me to man up and hop on the bike with Steve. _Time to put on your big girl underwear_, my rational mind told me and I nodded my head softly, walking past him and picking up the helmet on the bike.

"No, Steve. Its no problem." I said, placing the helmet on my head, "You're going to have to wear a helmet too though. Brain damage is no laughing matter." I said in faux seriousness, managing a smile. Steve grinned and walked over, giving me a quick squeeze. His arms felt warm and safe around me and some of my fears melted.

"Deal," he said confidently, reaching behind me and placing a helmet on his head, once again straddling the bike. I climbed on behind him, tucking my dress around my legs and snuggling myself against his warm, strong back. Maybe this wouldn't be all that bad, I thought to myself.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready," I responded, clinging just a bit tighter. Steve kicked the bike into motion, the engine roaring to life underneath us and merging onto the street, picking up speed slowly. At first it was terrifying, and on our first turn I may have squashed some of Steve's internal organs, though he never complained. But after a bit, the brisk breeze blowing by me, the feeling of independence and freedom washing through me and the solid wall of Steve's back giving me an anchor, it wasn't so terrifying. It was freeing. We were at Central Park before I knew it. Steve hopped off the back of the bike, helping me climb off and taking my helmet.

"How was it?" he asked hesitantly, searching my face for clues.

"It was fantastic!" I said, perhaps a bit loudly now that the engine was off. I giggled, the adrenaline of the ride still washing through me. "It was so much better than I thought." I finished, my voice now at a normal level. Steve grinned, placing the helmets in their compartments.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that. This bike has become one of my favorite things in this century." he offered his arm to me and I took it gladly, smiling up at him.

"Really? Did you used to have a bike? Before?" I asked.

"During the war yeah. Just to get from here to there every once and a while. Before the serum I couldn't really get the bikes we had back then started. I was kind of too little for it," he responded quietly. I tried to imagine Steve smaller, not the large man who towered over me now and I had a hard time picturing it. Steve exuded strength, safety, security. Though seeing him smaller would have been an adjustment, I had a feeling that Steve had still felt the same before the serum. His innate sense of self seemed too strong to be tied just to his physical form. His face fell with his last word, his brows knit together and sadness echoed in those blue eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up. It's probably a sensitive subject," I apologized.

"No, don't worry about it. It makes me a little sad to think about my life before the serum, but if it hadn't been for the way I grew up, Erskine would never have picked me. I'd never have had the chance to be like this."

"I have a feeling you'd be less like you than you think." I said. He looked at me quizzically.

"If you hadn't grown up the way you did, you wouldn't be you. Yes, maybe you would never have been chosen for the serum, but other than that, you wouldn't be you. You wouldn't be as compassionate or thoughtful as you are. As loyal or kind. Everything we experience shapes us in more ways than we'll ever realize." I finished, staring out at the dimming sunlight in Central Park, the last rays of the sun clinging to the last leaves on the trees, bathing them in golden light. I felt Steve shift beside me and looked up, afraid that I had somehow offended him. But when I saw his face, looking out at the same view I was, he had a soft smile on his lips. He looked down at me and the smile grew.

"How old are you again?" he asked. I blinked in surprise.

"27, why?" He chuckled.

"Are all people this insightful at your age in the 21st century?" I scoffed.

"I don't know about insightful. Every once in a while I manage to pull something remotely intelligent sounding out of my ass, but those times are few and far in between," I muttered.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Steve returned, shaking his head softly. I was about to retort skeptically when a teenage girl rushed up to us, her young face open, eyes huge.

"Are you Captain America?" she asked excitedly, and just loud enough to raise the attention of a few of the people milling about in the same area. Steve cringed and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Can I get your autograph?" she continued, thrusting a small piece of paper and pen in his direction. A small crowd began forming around us, more and more people in the area realizing what was going on.

"Uh, sure," Steve murmured, signing quickly, but not quickly enough. More people came forward, shoving pieces of paper in his direction. Steve looked around, panic tightening his eyes and thinning his lips as he tried to sign everything thrust at him. However, the flash of the first camera seemed to jolt him into action. He returned the slip of paper and pen to its owner and began moving forwards through the crowd, pulling me behind him. I rushed to stay close to him, but the crowds of people who had gathered were beginning to push in, leaving me to cling helplessly before his hand was ripped from mine. Now I usually didn't mind crowds, I mean I had been in my fair share of mosh pits, but this was ridiculous. Men, women and children alike wanted a piece of Steve Rogers and I was in the way. Shoved this way and that, I called out to him and then after a particularly large 18 year old girl elbowed me in the ribs, I was just about done.

"Fuck this," I muttered. Worming my way out of the horde, I ran around it, trying to get in front of Steve, who was right in the middle of the crowd, a look of panic and desperation on his face.

"Steve!" I called out, but the crowd was too loud. Fighting to get in his line of vision I jumped up and down.

"Blue Eyes!" I shouted and Steve's head whipped around, his eyes finding mine. A look of relief passed over his features and he marched his way through, finally breaking out and grabbing my hand, pulling me towards the bike. Unfortunately, the crowd continued to follow, and we made a mad dash to the motorcycle. Steve tossed a helmet at me and I strapped it in quickly as we pulled away from the curb just in time to avoid the people spilling out from the park onto the street.

**AN: Sorry to end abruptly, but I'll be putting up the next piece of the chapter sooner than usual, probably tomorrow night. Let me know what you thought!**


	6. Psychoanalysis and Onion Rings

**AN: Here we go, second part! Part three will be up soon!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Marvel Universe. If I did I would not be counting pence for bus fare :).**

"That was close!" I shouted above the engine noise.

"I know. We might have to change our plans!" he shouted. An idea popped into my head.

"Head back downtown! Lets have dinner at your place!" I shouted and felt Steve hesitate and then nod his head. We raced up midtown, reaching Avengers Tower quicker than I had thought possible, pulling in underneath the building into what seemed like a giant parking garage. Steve parked in a spot near the elevator with a tiny version of his shield hanging above it. We dismounted from the bike and I took off my helmet, shaking out my hair.

"Cute." I murmured, pointing to the sign. Steve rolled his eyes.

"Tony's idea. He had it put up a few days ago when I officially moved in," he replied, leading me to the elevator.

"Good evening Captain Rogers, Miss Samuels." JARVIS asked us.

"Hi JARVIS. How are you today?" I asked kindly, happy to be reaquainted with the British A.I.

"Quite well Miss. Which level?" he asked.

"My level JARVIS. Level 29." Steve replied.

"Right away sir," JARVIS replied and the elevator silently slid into motion.

"I'll never get used to that." Steve muttered.

"Yeah, even for someone who grew up in the 21st century its a bit strange. But at least he's friendly," I told Steve reassuringly.

"Thank you Miss, I do try." JARVIS replied. I laughed out loud.

"See? Very friendly," I turned toward Steve, "So, Blue Eyes, you got anything you can call food up in Level 29?" Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I'm honestly not sure. I haven't checked the fridge in a few days." I tsked at him and wagged my finger disapprovingly.

"You should always know what's in your fridge. I'm sure we'll find something I can put together." I replied as the doors opened to Steve's apartment.

"You put together? You're going to cook for me?" Steve asked incredulously.

"Of course I am. How else are we gonna eat tonight?" I asked. Steve shook his head.

"No, no I'm supposed to take you out. You shouldn't have to do any work tonight. I'll cook. Or we can order takeout," Steve offered. I turned toward him in faux outrage.

"What, Blue Eyes? Don't think I can cook?" I accused. Steve looked shocked, his eyes widening and his hands coming up defensively.

"No, no, that's not what I meant at all-" I laughed and he blinked, halting in his apology. I walked over to him, still standing shocked on the steps. I stopped on the top step, smiling up at him.

"I want to cook you dinner Boy Scout. I happen to like cooking for other people. Don't worry about it. You can even help me prep. And if it makes you feel any better, you've got KP afterwards," I finished, pecking him sweetly on the cheek, leaving a faint red lip mark. I turned away, striding over to the stainless steel fridge and throwing open the doors to survey our options. The fridge was surprisingly well stocked, filled with fresh fruits and vegetables, meat and cheese.

"You've been holding out on me Blue Eyes," I announced, "You've got enough in here to feed an army, no pun intended," I chuckled to myself, pulling out a container of hamburger, a head of lettuce and a few tomatoes. Steve had followed me into the kitchen as I began pulling out more ingredients. "We may not be able to go to that diner uptown, but I do make a mean cheeseburger. Oh, and onion rings." I pulled out three bottles of beer, offering one across the kitchen island to Steve. "One for you, one for me, and one for the onions," I smiled, popping the top off of Steve's beer. I hesitated, "Oh sorry, I didn't even ask. Do you drink?" I said hesitantly. Steve gave me another of his million watt smiles.

"I do every once in a while. I can't get drunk, but its almost like a habit. Comforting I suppose," he accepted the bottle of Budweiser, taking a swig of the amber liquid, "Thankfully, this is one of the few things that hasn't changed too much in 70 years." I smiled.

"Good to hear. Now, how good are you with a knife?" I asked, leaning over the counter. I watched Steve's eyes droop almost imperceptibly to my chest, and I gave him credit for not lingering, bringing his gaze back to mine almost immediately. I smirked knowingly, suppressing a giggle.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asked, cheeks turning a faint shade of pink. I chuckled.

"I asked about your knife skills," I teased, "I need someone who can handle a big knife." I pulled an impressive looking chef's knife from the butchers block and Steve's eyes widened slightly. I couldn't help but laugh. "These onions need to be sliced and then placed in milk. Think you can handle that Boy Scout?" Steve nodded and gingerly took the blade from me.

"Yeah, I can do that. I think I'll handle the big knife for now. You might be a safety hazard with a knife this size," he remarked, turning to grab a cutting board and the onions I had placed to the side. I scoffed in mock insult, mixing the ingredients for a beer batter in a large glass bowl.

"I happen to be very good with knives. I've only cut myself twice. And I still have most of all my fingers," I replied. Steve paused in slicing the onions and looked at me incredulously.

"Most?" he asked. I smiled and held up my left thumb.

"I cut myself a few years ago while slicing cucumbers for a salad. Blood was everywhere. Turns out I cut off the very tip of my thumb. It was stupid really. I was daydreaming and then-slice." Steve examined the finger, noticing the small piece that seemed to be missing. He shook his head, grabbing my hand in his and bringing my thumb up to his lips, kissing it gently.

"Well I'm glad you didn't lose more of it. You have beautiful hands," His blue eyes met mine as he spread out my fingers, exposing my palm and kissing the center of it. He placed kisses all over my hand, leading up to the sensitive skin on my wrist. Heat pooled low in my stomach and I felt my breathing shallow out. Snapping myself out of it I pulled my hand away.

"No distractions Blue Eyes. We eat first. Maybe we'll have time for that later." I stepped back, looking at him, my eyes still dreamy from his kisses. He watched me attentively, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. I shook my head, my eyes narrowing. "Now, you stay on your side and prep the onions. I'm staying over here." He chuckled, turning back to the cutting board. I whipped up the batter, setting it aside and searching through the cabinets for a large pot, my eyes alighting on a deep fryer tucked into the corner of a cupboard.

"Aha!" I muttered, pulling it out onto the counter. "Geez, Stark really well stocked these kitchens huh?" I plugged the machine in, filling the fryer with oil.

"Tony never does anything halfway." Steve muttered.

"What is it like living with Tony? I've only met him once, and he was…" I searched for the proper term, "overwhelming." I finished. Steve laughed.

"That's fairly accurate. He's pretty much like that all the time. He kind of sweet-talked us all into moving in after the invasion. He's determined to make us into a 'team', though god knows Tony's no expert at playing well with others." Steve answered, plopping onion rings into a bowl of milk I had set next to him.

"Isn't he an only child?" I asked. Steve nodded.

"So am I, what does that matter?"

"Well, he's never had a family. Never had brothers or sisters. He's probably treating The Avengers kind of like that, trying to make the team into something of a family. Its kind of sweet really," I mused, shaping the beef into patties.

"I never really thought about it that way." Steve paused, "How'd you get that out of him being an only child?"

"I've got a bachelor's degree in psychology," I answered, "never really was my focus, but every once in a while its useful."

"You went to college?" Steve asked. I chuckled humorlessly.

"Multiple times. My student loans reflect it."

"How many times?"

"Four-ish," I replied hesitantly. Steve's eyes widened.

"How many degrees do you have?" he asked.

"Four," I admitted sheepishly, "Two bachelors; one in psychology, another in physics. One masters in biochemistry and a doctorate in mathematics." Steve's eyes widened even more, and I sighed deeply, "I probably shouldn't have told you that." I muttered, turning my attention wholeheartedly to seasoning the hamburgers.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked. I looked up to see him standing next to me, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"I don't like telling guys about my degrees. Most of the time they just get really intimidated and the relationship gets awkward fast." Steve's brows knit in confusion.

"Why would they be intimidated?" he asked.

"Well, because guys nowadays are still intimidated when they think a girl they're seeing is smarter than them." Steve's brows shot up and then he chuckled, standing up from his lean and returning to the cutting board.

"Men still don't know anything about women then? I'm not the only one?" he asked, slicing tomatoes now with careful precision.

"Uh, I guess so. You're not intimidated? Freaked out?" I asked softly. He looked up at me in surprise.

"Intimidated? No, Charlotte, I'm not. I encountered my fair share of intelligent women in my time. I'm just surprised that guys are still as stupid about women now as they were 70 years ago." he admitted, turning to look at me, a smile on his lips. "An intelligent woman is nothing to be afraid of. In fact, it's kind of sexy," he blushed on the last word, his eyes falling to the floor. I laughed and grinned, walking over to give him a quick hug.

"Steve Rogers, I believe that you are a feminist." I said, turning back to the stove.

"A feminist? What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, slightly insulted. I chuckled.

"A feminist is someone who believes in the equal treatment of men and women. And you Captain America," I continued, pointing the frying pan at him, "are a feminist."

"Maybe I am." Steve hesitated, "Is it a strange thing, to be a feminist in the 21st century?"

"Stranger than you'd think," I muttered.

"Why? Its just common sense." I grinned, looking back at him.

"Yes, yes it is. But a lot of people don't feel that way. Obviously Steve, humanity's still got more growing up to do." I said, dropping the first batch of onion rings into the oil. Steve shook his head, placing a plate of washed and cut toppings for the burgers next to me, walking around to take a seat opposite me at the counter.

"So why four degrees?" he asked. "And, psychology, physics, biochemistry and mathematics? Those seem a little bit-"

"Scattered?" I prompted. "Yeah, I had a hard time making up my mind in college. I loved learning and being in class, but I once I finished with one, I didn't really see the point in continuing. I knew everything on that topic. Why continue? So I kind of hopped around. And now I'm working in a craft shop," I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, "I get bored easily I guess." I pulled out the first batch of onion rings, placing them on a plate lined with paper towels and dropping in the next batch.

"How did you end up at the craft shop with four degrees?" Steve asked as I put the burgers in the hot skillet.

"Honestly, I needed a change. I'd been doing science and math for so long, but I didn't want to do that work anymore. I didn't like any of it. Like I said before, I learned all I could, and then I was done. Simple as that." I flipped the burgers, and turned to grab the hamburger buns, placing them in another pan to toast.

"But why the craft store?" Steve prompted. I sighed.

"I don't really know. I guess I wanted to do something creative. I've never really been good at that sort of thing. For god sakes I can barely draw a star without embarrassing myself," I muttered.

"Really?" Steve asked incredulously as I pulled out the rest of the onion rings.

"Really. And don't ask me to try because it's kind of pathetic." I chuckled softly, remembering my journals full of misshapen stars and doodles. I plated up the cheeseburgers and onion rings, grabbing my beer and heading toward the table. Steve followed, grabbing his plate and beer. I set the food on the table, noticing a sketchpad lying on it.

"Are you enjoying your sketchpads? I obviously don't draw, but Stella said that these would be good for just about anything." I picked up the pad and flipped through it, observing pages of random doodles, and talented sketches of the New York skyline, flipping to the last page before my hand froze.

"Oh, no, Charlotte, that's just-" Steve stopped, standing next to me as I stared down at a sketch of my face.

**AN: Semi-cliffhanger maybe? I'll post the next chapter soon, I promise. **


	7. Forrest Gump

**AN: Sorry about the wait guys. I've been ridiculously busy because finals suck ass. To make up for it, this is a huge freaking chapter. The good news: its basically Christmas break so I will have 4 blissfully uninterrupted weeks of writing. I've got some more chapters lined up so we'll be getting back on our weekly schedule. **

**Some of the stuff in this chapter is probably not lined up with strict Marvel Comic Universe backstory, but it serves its purpose. Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. :)**

**_"Oh, no, Charlotte, that's just-" Steve stopped, standing next to me as I stared down at a sketch of my face._ **It was incredibly well done and detailed, down to the small birthmark on the tip of my left cheekbone. It was beautiful, I was beautiful. In his eyes, truly beautiful, all rounded curves, plump lips and huge eyes. It was like looking in a mirror if the mirror automatically made the viewer younger and more perfect.

"Steve, is this, is this how you see me?" I asked softly, looking up at him. Steve sighed, taking the sketchpad from my hands and setting it back on the table. He reached over, gathering my face in his hands, pulling my gaze up to his.

"It is. You're beautiful. I saw it the first time I met you. You fell into my arms and looked up at me with such bewilderment," Steve chuckled, his thumb tracing my cheekbone, blue eyes smiling down at me. "You were beautiful when you called me 'boy scout' and when you told me for the third time that you did not need to go to the hospital." his eyes met mine, and his smile fell a bit, "I don't know what it is, but since then I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. Charlotte, I-"

"We should eat." I blurted out, thoroughly rattled by the words coming out of his mouth. Steve's face fell a bit and he looked down, dropping his hands from my face, shoving them into his pockets.

"Yeah, we uh, we should," he turned toward the table, taking his seat. I sighed and closed my eyes briefly, feeling like an idiot. That had been just a bit too much to handle but I definitely hadn't dealt with it like a grown up. Steeling myself silently I walked around the table, taking a seat opposite Steve.

"I'm sorry Steve. I just-"

"No, its fine. Don't worry about it," he replied, smiling softly, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. I kicked myself internally, reaching my hand across the table to touch his.

"No, Steve, it's not. I didn't mean anything by it, I was just kind of surprised. I haven't had the best luck with guys in my life and we've only known each other for a few days, but," I paused, trying to work through my feelings, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I know how you feel. I feel the same way and it's kind of scary." I looked up at him, meeting his gaze, blue eyes staring into mine. "This is happening fast, and I'm having a hard time making myself take a step back. But for now, lets just eat, okay? We can figure these things out later." Steve smiled softly and nodded slowly, turning to his plate.

"This looks great Charlotte, I haven't had a homemade burger in forever," He piled on toppings, and I watched in amazement as the burger seemed to grow three inches. I chuckled.

"Enough toppings Blue Eyes?" I smirked and Steve looked up, grinning.

"There's so much of everything now. So many options, so many choices. I've never considered putting onion rings on a burger," he mused as he did just that, "but someone at the diner we were going to go to recommended it and its delicious." He smushed the burger to a more manageable size and took a huge bite. I chuckled, munching on an onion ring absentmindedly. His eyes closed and he smiled around his mouthful of burger.

"Good?" I asked. He nodded, swallowing his bite.

"Fantastic. I think it might be better than the diner on 23rd," I grinned, taking a bite from my own burger, "Where'd you learn to cook? First the apple tarts, now these. You didn't even use a recipe." Steve wondered aloud.

"Oh I always follow a recipe," I admitted.

"Really? I didn't see one." I smiled, tapping the side of my head.

"The recipes are up here. I like reading cooking blogs and watching Food Network, probably a lot more than I should. Whenever I read or see a recipe I just kind of remember it. Especially if its something that's bad for you. Which is why I make a mean burger. Salad, not so much." Steve chuckled.

"What about you? Do you cook at all?" I asked, Steve shook his head.

"Not like you. I can barely heat up a can of soup," he smiled self-deprecatingly, shyly look up from his meal. "I can however, put together a great breakfast." I smirked.

"Is that an invitation?" I asked suggestively and Steve choked a bit on his beer, looking up at me in surprise. I laughed, grabbing my last onion ring. "I'm kidding boy scout. Calm down." I stood, grabbing my plate and his, returning to the kitchen and placing them in the sink. Steve followed as I hopped up onto the counter next to the sink. Steve began stacking dishes, filling up the sink with water and soap.

"Now for my favorite part of cooking. Not having to clean up." I smirked, crossing my legs primly. Steve smiled at me. From my seat on the counter, we were actually eye level for once.

"You had that rule growing up too huh?" he said and I chuckled.

"Kind of. It was sort of my own rule when I was living at school. She who cooks shall not clean. Simple as that. I didn't wash a dish my entire junior year," I replied smugly. Steve chuckled.

"It was my mom's rule in the house growing up. Dad didn't mind cooking or washing, so it was a toss up most nights," he replied.

"What were your parents like? We already established that you were an only child, but where'd you grow up? What'd your parents do?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me. Steve smiled at me, brows raised, obviously surprised at this line of questioning.

"Well, they got married young. Mom was a teacher, Dad worked in construction. We lived in Brooklyn. It took them a long time to have a kid, my mom had a lot of miscarriages before she got pregnant with me." Steve's eyes filled with sadness, taking on a far away look as he scrubbed the dishes. "They were thrilled when I was born. Mom quit her teaching job to stay home and take care of me. When I got sick, and trust me, I was always sick as a kid, things got rough. They were tough though, and so in love. We didn't have much, but we made do. There was never any lack of love in that little apartment. When dad died on a site when I was 16 mom was at a loss. We barely got through those years. I began studying art after high school, paying for it by working as a clerk and mom scraping pennies whenever she could. Suddenly there was the war and the serum, and then here we are." He drained the sink, eyes still downcast.

"What happened to your mom?" I asked softly.

"She passed away in the fifties. Thankfully Peggy had arranged things for her after they thought I died. I sent mom any money I earned while I was deployed and Peggy made sure that she still got the money every month. They took care of her, gave her money for a place to stay. She didn't want for anything those last few years and for that I'll always be grateful. I just wish-" he stopped, drying his hands.

"Wish what?" Steve looked up at me, his eyes grieving, a glimpse of the small boy that had lived in Brooklyn nearly 80 years ago showing through.

"I just wish I could have seen her again," he finished. My heart broke for him and I opened my arms, bringing him in for a hug. I rubbed his back slowly, wishing to give him the chance to go back, the chance to live the life he would have had waiting for him had he not been in that plane. I could feel him breathe deeply, his shoulders rising and falling with each too evenly controlled breath. He was just so solid beneath my hands, and as his arms wrapped around me, I felt an immediate sense of comfort and safety, so much so that I began to wonder who was soothing who. Even in his grief, Steve radiated security and immovable strength.

After a moment or two, he pulled back slightly placing a large hand on my cheek, cupping my face. I mirrored the gesture, watching him nuzzle his face into my hand. I watched my hand draw patterns over the left side of his face, tracing those high cheekbones, strong jaw and poet's mouth. He returned the favor, thumb skimming my brow, cheek and along the bottom of my lips, leaving the skin tingling from his touch.

His eyes met mine, the sadness I had seen before fading away as he focused on my lips, watching as they parted slightly beneath his thumb. It was as if we were both trying to learn each others faces, trying to uncover secrets and pieces of each other without using any words at all. He gently guided my lips to his, his hand on the back of my neck. Our lips met, warm and tender at first, and my mind went fuzzy. Slowly but faster than I could anticipate, the kiss grew more fervent, more desperate. His hand tensed on the back of my neck, changing the tone of the kiss. My hand, resting on his broad shoulder tightened, grasping the fabric of his shirt as heat pooled within me. I found myself desperate for him, lips moving urgently, hands grasping harder, kisses growing deeper. His hand found the small of my back, pulling me toward him. I opened my legs unconsciously and scooted toward the edge of the counter, my hips meeting his, sending a burst of heat through me. I whimpered in pleasure softly at the feel of his hips against mine and Steve drew back quickly as if I had burned him, taking a step backwards before turning away and rubbing the back of his neck nervously. The places where we had touched cooled quickly, and I crossed my legs again, feeling doubts and shame creeping in.

"Steve?" I asked hesitantly. I had done something wrong, I was sure of it. I had upset him somehow and I hated myself for it. The molten heat that had been pooling low in my stomach cooled and hardened fast, leaving me feeling slightly queasy.

"I'm sorry Steve, I-" Steve turned, a fierceness in his eyes that made me swallow the rest of my words.

"Sorry? What could you possibly be sorry for?" he asked, frustration in his tone, "I should be the one saying sorry. I lost control, I shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?" We were just kissing," I replied incredulously.

"Just kissing? That was not just kissing. For godsakes Charlotte I almost took you on the kitchen floor!" My brows shot up in shock.

"Steve, that was a long way from you taking me anywhere," I countered.

"It was too intense. We barely know each other. How can it possibly be this difficult to control myself around you," he trailed off, talking to himself rather than actually addressing me. I blushed in pleasure, but he continued, obviously upset with himself, "That wasn't appropriate, and its all my fault," he finished, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at the floor. I hopped off of the counter and walked over to him, taking his face into my hands, pulling his gaze to meet mine.

"Steve, we were just making out. Yeah, it was kind of intense, but not in a bad way. I was enjoying myself, weren't you?" I asked softly. He nodded.

"Of course I was. That doesn't give me an excuse to take advantage of you," he replied quietly.

"Oh Blue Eyes, I would have stopped you if I felt we were going too far. You may be Captain America but trust me when I say I can hold my own, okay?" he met my eyes hesitantly, a smile ghosting over his lips.

"I have no doubt that you could Charlotte." I grinned, dropping my hands from his face and taking a step back towards the living room.

"Good. Now, what are we going to do with the rest of our night?" I asked, "Its still barely 9. The night is young." I opened my arms wide, gesturing out to the city. Steve looked unsure.

"I don't really know. I didn't plan this far," he admitted.

"That's fine. We'll find something." My eyes focused on the huge flat screen TV on the other side of the room and I grinned.

"I know! Wanna watch a movie?"

"Uh, I don't really know how to work that thing, but if you can get it to cooperate, by all means," he replied, taking a seat on the couch.

"Fair enough. Considering how well Tony stocked the kitchen I would expect that he would at least hook you up with Netflix." I squatted down to fiddle with the TV, turning it on and playing with the remote.

"Netflix?" Steve asked. I worked my way through the home page interface on the television before my eyes finally caught sight of that well known little red icon.

"Yes, Netflix," I clicked on it and the app opened up. I rose, taking a seat next to Steve, "It's an online streaming service that lets you to watch movies and television shows whenever you want. So," I mused," what cinematic treasures from the last 70 years do you absolutely need to see..." Steve's face lit up and reached over to grab a small journal from a nearby table, flipping through the leatherbound pages.

"The team's been giving me suggestions nonstop over the past few months, Tony mostly. Lets see, Star Wars, Rocky, The Godfather, Lord of the Rings," Steve listed off. I shook my head, scanning through the options on the screen.

"Eh, all very important, but those are movie marathon worthy, not exactly conducive for a date." I mused, scrolling up to find the perfect choice.

"Aha! Perfect!" Steve looked up from his notebook to study the screen.

"Forrest Gump?" he asked.

"Yes. It's a classic and it basically takes you through the major events of the 20th century, but through a different perspective then you'd get in any of the history briefings I'm sure you've had. Very well done movie, won a bunch of awards." Steve shrugged.

"Sure, sounds good." I grinned and clicked play, taking a seat next to him and sneakily grabbing the leather bound journal from his lap. I flipped through pages and pages of little notes and lists, all written in even and surprisingly elegant cursive, just another reminder of what decade Steve had actually grown up in.

"Who's been giving you these recommendations?" I asked, "They're all over the place. 'Try thai food', 'go to 3D movie', 'play Call of Duty'." Steve looked down from the movie, watching me play with the pages.

"Everyone really. Those are from Barton and Dr. Banner," I flipped to one and pointed it out.

"'Go to strip club'?" Steve blushed all the way to his ears.

"That would be one of Tony's." He gently eased the book from my hands and set it on the table next to him. I chuckled, popping off my heels and curling my legs next to me on the couch, trying to get comfortable. As we watched Forrest break his leg braces mid run, I couldn't help but begin to lean towards Steve. He was so warm and solid, and perfectly positioned for me to lean on him.

Apparently I wasn't exactly being subtle about it, because Steve smirked silently and shifted his arm, making room for me there. I snuggled closer, placing my head on his shoulder, his strong arm wrapped around me, holding me close. The thumping of his heart sounded evenly against my chest and I couldn't help but smile.

I turned my attention back to the film, but Steve's hand had not so subtly wandered to my knee, long fingers tracing patterns in the fabric, burning through the fabric of my dress and stockings. I shifted, looking up at his neck, the tendons and muscles moving with his adam's apple when he swallowed, a vein on his neck pulsing with each heartbeat. Giving into temptation, I leaned up, placing a kiss there on the pulse point. His skin was soft and warm and he smelled amazing.

Tracing kisses over his neck, I worked my way up to his ear, nibbling gently. Steve shuddered quietly and I grinned, tracing a finger down his jaw line to bring his lips to mine. The kiss was gentle at the beginning, but as heat courses through the both of us, the tone changed, becoming more demanding. Swinging my leg around to straddle him, I took his face into my hands, deepening the kiss. His hands grasped my thighs, hands tightening and bunching the fabric, revealing the tips of my stockings and the beginning of my garter. His lips left mine, only to find purchase in the sensitive skin right below my chin, working their way down to the hollow of my collar bone. Heat pulsed through me and I arched into his touch, one of Steve's hands now there at the small of my back, supporting the arch, the other cupping the back of my neck, bringing my lips back to his. I whimpered softly against him, arching to press my body against his once more. Steve broke the kiss, and stared at me breathlessly for a moment, his blue eyes fiercely trying to figure me out.

"Charlotte, we can't do this." he murmured, trying to be reasonable, "As much as I want to. For godsakes, we don't even know each others' full names." I sighed, sitting back on the couch, knowing full well that he was right. We sat in awkward silence, my hands clasped in my lap as we watched Jenny run to Forrest through the reflecting pool in Washington D.C.

"Charlotte Alexandra Samuels," I blurt out, almost blurring the words together.

"What?" Steve asked, looking down at me, brows knit in confusion,

"Charlotte Alexandra Samuels," I repeated, "that's my full name. Yours?" I asked, smirking up at him mischievously. A smile slowly crept over Steve's features as he began to realize what I meant, turning into one of his signature million-watt grins.

"It's Steven Thomas Rogers," he answered.

"Good. There we are, now we both know each othe-" I barely get the sentence out before I was back on the couch again, this time with Steve's firm body pressed against mine, being kissed senseless. Giggling against his lips, I wrapped my arms around his neck, anchoring his body to mine. His right hand began to wander, playing with the fabric of my dress and tracing his fingers up over my hips and waist to where my torso flared out to my breasts. His hand paused ever so slightly, tracing the curve hesitantly before cupping my breast softly. I let out a little sigh of contentment, moving against him, feeling his hardness press against my thigh. A sudden sense of nervousness leaked into his movements, his hands becoming more hesitant, kisses less sure. My brows knit in confusion and I pulled back from the kiss, framing his face in my hands to look into his eyes.

"Steve, what you said earlier, about pressuring me, I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you into anything either." I told him softly, trying to read his expression. I could see his eyes cloud over with some sort of internal struggle, finally clearing to meet mine nervously.

"Its just-I've never done this before Charlotte," he said, his voice faint and low.

"Neither have I really. I don't usually do this on first dates-"

"No, you don't understand," he backed off, sitting up next to me. I sat up, kneeling next to him. Steve sat, staring at his hands, refusing to meet my eyes. I touched his knee softly, trying to recapture his attention.

"What's going on?" I asked softly.

"Charlotte I've never done this before," he repeated, looking up at me, eyes full of meaning, a glimmer of fear on his strong features. Understanding washed over me and I sat back on my heels slowly.

"Oh," I said dumbly. We sat for a moment in silence, watching Steve stare at his hands.

"So?" I asked, breaking the silence.

"What?" Steve looked over at me.

"So?" I repeated, "That doesn't matter Steve. What matters is whether or not you want this."

"Of course I want this-" Steve turned quickly to me and I held up my hands to stop him.

"I know. I want this too, but if we're going to do anything, you need to be sure that you want to take this step. I don't want to pressure you into anything." I leaned over, kissing him on the cheek softly before making myself put my shoes on and rising. We both needed to take a step back. This was moving entirely too fast and I wasn't about to take Steve's virginity on a whim. He deserved more than that.

"It's better this way, I promise. As much as I want this, I could never forgive myself if I ever hurt you, Steve." I tried to keep the emotion out of my voice as I gathered my things and walked over to the elevator. I was going to need a long cold shower tonight but Steve deserved the chance to think about this before it happened. This was the honorable and right thing to do. It was a simple kindness that I wish that I had been afforded.

"Charlotte, wait!" Steve called out, rising from his seat on the couch. I turned at the elevator, ready to reason with him.

"Steve, this is-" I started, but swallowed the words as Steve kissed me, trapping me against the door with his body. He pulled back briefly to search my eyes.

"Do you want this Charlotte Alexandra Samuels?" I nod.

"Yes, of course," I answered breathlessly.

"Are you turned off because I've never done this? Is that why you're leaving" he asked, his tone surprisingly even. My brows knit in indignation.

"Of course not! That doesn't matter at-" he silenced me again with a knee weakening kiss.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his blue eyes blazing into mine, fierce and sure. I nodded.

"Of course I do Steve," I murmured, bringing a hand to his cheek.

"Then trust me when I tell you that I know what I can handle. I may not be experienced but I know how I feel. I want you Charlotte. I can't stop thinking about you, can't get you out of my mind. I know its insane, I know its too soon, but I want this, and I'm sure. Are you?"

**AN: Because consent is SEXY you guys. Is Charlotte sure? Are they gonna let their passions take control? Lets see...**

**Review! **


	8. Virgins and Saints

**AN: Will they? Won't they? We'll see...**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but a wildly overactive imagination.**

Steve looked down into Charlotte's green eyes, trying not to let his nerves leak through. He was terrified to tell her in the first place, terrified that she would ridicule him like his friends had before the war, like Tony had when he'd found out a few months ago after an ill-fated excursion to what Steve had thought would be a show and ended up being a strip club. But instead she had reacted exactly as he would have. She backed off exactly as he would, so obviously motivated by an honorable core that only further attracted him. What he hadn't expected was for that not to matter to him. He knew why she wanted to give him time, why she wanted to leave, but he just couldn't let her. The whole night had been such wonderful torture, kissing her, touching her, talking to her. He could feel his need for her like an ache in his bones. Every smile, every glance had been charged with attraction and he knew with certainty that it would drive him crazy until it was satisfied.

Charlotte hesitated, her own internal war raging on. He was staring at her so intensely, so sure in his choice and his body pressed against hers, but her guilt continued to gnaw at her. She couldn't take this from him on a whim. This was big, a huge decision, and she didn't know if she could let him make that choice tonight. But as she stared into his blue eyes, she could see that the decision had been already made. She just couldn't stand the idea of hurting him, though somehow she knew with a dreadful kind of certainty that she eventually would. They barely knew each other, but being with him was so easy, so effortless, though she couldn't deny that tonight had been hard. She was drawn to him like a magnet, needed to touch him as often as possible, feel the connection between them. Lust ached in her bones, and she felt a tiny piece of her break and shift, suddenly resolute in her decision, sure and terrified all at once.

"I'm sure Steve. I want this, and I want you," Charlotte heard the words come out, stopping herself before the rest tripped over her tongue, words she wasn't ready to share yet. Steve smiled slowly, kissing her tenderly, her knees growing weak as his body melted into hers. This was too tender, too sweet to handle. He was working his way into her heart and alarms went off in her head, forcing her to change the tone of the kiss, demanding more from him. The kiss grew heated and as she wriggled against him, he couldn't help but let out a small, low growl, feeling those lush curves press into him. The kiss became more desperate, and he pulled her away from the wall, his hands moving lower to cup her butt gently before lifting her easily.

Charlotte squeaked in surprise, her lips still fused to his. Obediently she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips, anchoring her body to his. He hefted her weight with ease, walking towards the bedroom as she wormed her hands between them, undoing buttons on his shirt quickly, spreading it to reveal a clean white undershirt.

He placed her gently on the bed, releasing her just long enough to shed his shirt. Charlotte ran her hands over his shoulders and chest, a small hum of appreciation sounding low in her throat. Steve made his way down her body, kissing her neck and collarbone, dipping to nip gently at the swell of her breasts before making his way to her thighs, smoothing her dress up to reveal a black lace garter belt attached to lacy thigh high stockings. Steve sighed appreciatively at the sight of her smooth, tanned legs framed by black lace and nearly sheer nylon. Carefully he unclipped the hose from the garter, rolling it down her leg slowly, his fingers gently lighting small fires all down the length of her leg, pressing kisses as he went, and kissing the arch of her foot gently, making her shiver before moving onto the next stocking.

"You've done this before, haven't you Blue Eyes?" Charlotte asked knowingly, sitting up on her elbows. Steve smirked mischievously as he finished with the other stocking, crawling his way up her body again.

"I said I was a virgin. Not a saint," he took her mouth again, drawing out each kiss as his hands ghosted down to the hem of her dress, inching it upwards to reveal gold tinted skin, a pair of black lace underwear frothing over her hips, a matching bra encompassing two full perfect breasts. Charlotte reached beneath her, unsnapping the bra and wiggling her way out of it and tossing it to the side. Steve stared on, sighing in approval as he traced the shape of her breasts with his hands, taking one into his large palm, watching her shiver as their skin met. He dipped his head, kissing the taut peak of her nipple, taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. She gasped beneath him, whimpering softly and he continued, teasing it with lips and tongue before moving onto the other. Getting brave now, he nipped gently with his teeth, and Charlotte cried out quickly. His head shot up looking at her in alarm.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked frantically. She smiled at him lazily, running her fingers through his hair.

"No Steve, not at all. Trust me, if you hurt me, I'd tell you. Most of the time making noise during sex means that you're doing something right." Steve grinned and continued on, determined to drive her to be very vocal tonight. A hand moved over her hips, down to the valley between her thighs, sliding one finger over her center, the lace of her underwear already hot and wet. Her hips bucked slightly in response and Steve knew he'd found another way to torture her tonight. He slipped a finger underneath the lace, dragging his finger between her lips, finding the little nub at the top. His finger pressed lightly on it, delighted when she cried out again. Determined, he pulled down her underwear, sliding it down her hips. He worked his way down her body to look at her. She sat up one her elbows, panic setting in.

"Steve, no-" she started, but he stopped her, looking up at her with such sweetness she thought she might melt into a puddle right there on the bed.

"You're beautiful Charlotte." he murmured softly before leaning in and sliding a wet tongue up her lips to her clit. She fell back on the bed and moaned in pleasure. He continued, working that little nub at the top, licking and sucking gently as she felt the pressure within her grow.

"Oh god Steve, yes," she managed before coherent thought became lost. He drove her on and on before inserting a large finger inside of her, making her hips buck, her body growing taut, fingers fisting in the bed sheets before melting into the bed with a long sigh. He smiled, kissing her way up her body, her chest and face flushed a pleasant shade of pink. Her breathing evened out slowly, her eyes closed dreamily.

"Charlotte?" he asked softly.

"Mhmm?" she replied, her eyes still shut.

"Was that?" she nodded, a lazy smile on her lips. She opened her eyes and looked at him, green eyes glazed over with pleasure. Steve grinned in satisfaction. She stroked his face softly, her smile becoming more and more mischievous.

"Doesn't seem quite fair though does it?" she asked.

"Huh?" before he could realize it she had wrapped her legs around him, using his weight to flip him onto his back. Then she was straddling him, full breasts bouncing right at his eye level. She smirked as he stared, wiggling her way down his body to undo his belt and pull down his pants and boxer briefs in one quick move. Breathlessly, she stared at his member, pink and flushed with blood, now standing at attention before her. She knew that he was going to be big, but she had to say she was kind of surprised how well endowed he actually was. She scooted up the bed, taking his length into her hands. His breath hissed out between his teeth as she grasped him, teasing him gently. She leaned over as her hands continued to work, kissing his neck and nibbling on his ear.

"Do you have any protection?" she whispered.

"The bedside table, in the, the second drawer," he gasped out. She left him briefly, grabbing and unwrapping a condom, working it down his shaft. She positioned herself on top of him, watching him carefully until blue eyes met hers.

"You're sure?" she asked again. He nodded and smiled sweetly.

"I'm sure Charlotte." he replied, his voice low and husky. She sighed deeply and took him into her a process that took a bit longer than she had expected giving his size. Once he was sheathed entirely within her, they both couldn't help but moan, almost in unison. She leaned over him, her hands bracing on the bed on either side of his head and moved slowly, rolling her hips. Steve's hands came to rest on her hips, fingers digging in as she moved, finding a rhythm that hit her perfectly. She moaned quietly and then louder as he began moving his hips in time with hers.

"Oh god, Charlotte," he moaned, sending shivers up her spine, spurring her to move with more urgency, each stroke hitting her perfectly. Her muscles clenched around him briefly and she swore to God she heard him growl before she found herself underneath him on the bed, his hips pumping into her rhythmically. His breathing was ragged and as she lifted her legs to hold him to her, she moaned aloud, feeling him hit her perfectly on each stroke.

"Steve, oh, god, I -" she managed to get out before her orgasm washed over her, her body tightening, fingers digging into his shoulders, an unintelligible cry escaping her lips. He followed her not long afterwards, crying out with his own release and lost himself in her.

She opened her eyes slowly, her pulse finally regulating and slowing down. Their bodies were still pressed hotly together, slick with sweat. She couldn't help but sigh contentedly, his warm body on hers, but as she tried for another breath of air, she realized that his warm, heavy body was still very much on top of her and was now cutting off her air supply. She tapped his shoulder weakly and he mumbled incoherently, snuggling closer.

"No, Steve, I, I can't breathe" she managed, using her last bit of air. He immediately pushed himself onto his elbows, and Charlotte sucked in a deep breath.

"Sorry, sorry!" he apologised, a sheepish smile on his mouth. Charlotte chuckled and smiled at him.

"It's fine. I can breathe now." he smiled, kissing her briefly before getting out of bed, coming back quickly to pull them both underneath the covers. She cuddled against him, head resting against the warm expanse of his chest, one leg tucked around his. She sighed contentedly, running a finger up and down his abs.

"Was that, was that okay?" he asked hesitantly, nervousness leaking into his tone. She sat up in surprise, looking up at him.

"Of course. Did you hear me during that? I'm surprised I didn't wake up half of Manhattan." she murmured, her hand coming up to stroke his face softly. "That was amazing. And frankly a little surprising. Where did you learn all those moves?" she asked. He blushed all the way to his ears, clearing his throat.

"I told you, I was a virgin, not a saint. Besides, I spent a lot of time with soldiers. You have no idea how dirty talk can get on a base." he finished.

"Huh, I never thought of it that way." she settled back onto his chest before shooting up again, her face concerned.

"And for you? Was it okay?" she asked, her brows drawn together in worry. He smiled softly, his hand smoothing hair back from her face and over her shoulder, leaving a full breast exposed to the air.

"It was perfect. Everything I could have ever imagined," she smiled in relief, settling down once more.

"I'll have to get some more practice in of course." he added. She chuckled as his hand moved its way up her thigh to grasp her ass. She yelped in surprise.

"I'm sure we'll have plenty of time for practice," she laughed.

"You think so?" he asked, one hand moving to his right, grabbing one of the condoms she had thrown on the bed, slipping it on too quickly for her to notice, flipping her onto her back and entering her swiftly, rock hard again already.

"Steve!" she exclaimed in shock, her eyes widening.

"What about another practice session right now?" he asked, rolling his hips slowly and watching her eyes roll up and close, a moan escaping her lips.

"Holy shi-"

**AN: Well...there we go then. :) Review!**


	9. Coffee and Glitter

**AN: Hey all, sorry that its been so long since I updated. Traveling back to the states and holiday craziness meant I didn't have a ton of time for writing. However, I'm now feeling a bit more on track with it and I'm back at school where I'll actually have more free time to write on a regular basis, so we'll be back on that weekly schedule. Thanks for hanging in there, your reviews mean so much to me!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my undying obsession with Captain America :)**

**Steve 3rd Person POV:**

Steve sat up in bed, still wide awake. Charlotte had curled into him in her sleep, passing out after their third bout of lovemaking that night. Her body was soft and warm against him, and he curled an arm around her stroking her hair softly behind her ear. She sighed and cuddled closer. She was perfect. He had thought so before hand, but now he knew for sure. All soft curves and warm skin, she smelled faintly of cherry blossoms, her dark hair smooth and soft on his shoulder. The image of her riding him flashed in his mind, and he could feel himself get hard again, another perk of the serum, he was sure. He felt smug and proud, counting in his head the amount of times she had called out his name that night. Though to be honest, he'd said hers a number of times as well. She had been so responsive, so caring and God, she could move. He'd never known that hips could move that way.

He continued stroking her hair, the dark strands tickling the hair on his chest. She shifted onto her back restlessly, tossing an arm above her head, exposing one beautifully shaped breast. Her hair fanned out again, her lips parted in sleep, her face peaceful. He smiled slowly, wanting her all over again. He thought that finally satisfying his need for her would make things easier, but he just wanted her more if that was even possible. He sighed, realization washing over him.

He was in love with her. Four days in and he was in love with her. Expecting to feel panic, he was surprised to feel instead an unshakable sense of contentment. He shook his head, slipping down into the bed, resting his head on his hand, watching her. He had always known that it would be fast for him, that falling in love would happen all at once, like it had with Peggy. But even then, Peggy wasn't even comparable to this. It was like she was a permanent piece of his soul already, his heart taking her in as if she had just opened the door and stepped in. He had fallen and he had fallen hard. He couldn't help but smile though, her pink lips parted ever so slightly, watching the rise and fall of her chest. She was everything he had ever wanted in a woman and more. Funny, stubborn, beautiful and way smarter than him. He shook his head, reaching out to trace a finger under the curve of her breast, goosebumps developing on her skin, her nipple growing small and hard in response. He smiled smugly and laid back on the bed, pillowing his hands underneath his head. He was a goner alright. All that was left now was to convince her that she was as head over heels in love with him as he was with her. He smirked, closing his eyes and finally succumbing to sleep.

Mission accepted.

* * *

><p><strong>Charlotte POV:<strong>

As my eyes fluttered open, I found myself face to face with an expanse of smooth, warm, slightly tanned skin. My brows furrowed in confusion, my eyes following a trail of short, soft, dark blonde hair leading down and branching out until it disappeared below the sheet. I reached up, slipping a finger underneath the sheet and lifting it hesitantly, only to immediately let it fall, shooting up in bed. Hesitantly I sneaked a glance back over my shoulder to see Steve laying there, fast asleep, one muscular arm behind his head, the other at his side, his face calm and slightly amused. I turned back and couldn't help but grin, the events of the night before playing over in my head. I had slept with Captain America. With Steve. And it had been amazing.

I did a double take and barely suppressed the urge to do a happy dance in bed. Instead I stretched slowly, feeling that exquisite soreness between my legs, on my breasts and at my hips. His hands had been everywhere last night, and he had been a very fast learner, completely and totally dedicated to how I felt. I sighed smugly, feeling like a cat with a bellyful of cream as I eased my way out of bed, trying not to wake Steve. Searching for something to cover up with, I grabbed the shirt that Steve had been wearing the night before, finally giving into the urge to happy dance when it buttoned easily over some of my more prodigious assets. It had been a minor fantasy of mine to wear a man's shirt after a night of mind blowing sex, but I had yet to be with a man who: a) actually gave me a night of mind blowing sex, and b) wore shirts big enough to button over my ass and breasts without gaping at least a little. I wriggled comfortably, rolling up the way too long sleeves and padding lazily into the kitchen. My eyes focused on the state of the art coffee maker sitting on the counter and I smirked.

"Scary italian coffee maker. I shall make thee my bitch," I muttered, eyeing up the machine and the instructions engraved on the side, written in elegantly cursive italian of course. I reached below, searching for coffee and filters, rummaging around loudly enough that I didn't hear the low hum of the elevator doors opening. I did however, hear the unmistakable sound of Tony Stark's voice booming through the apartment.

"Yo! Cap!" I straightened up in surprise, narrowly missing hitting my head on the counter.

"Ha, not this time," I whispered vindictively, shutting my mouth quickly and praying that Stark hadn't heard me.

"Capsicle! Sleeping Beauty, lets go! We've got a status meeting in a half an hour and I wanna show you a new toy." Tony paused in the middle of the living room.

"The hell Spangles? Aren't you usually up at the asscrack of dawn? Your bald eagle alarm clock stop working?" I groaned quietly, knowing that if Stark woke Steve up with me there, Steve might just kill Tony. I stood up slowly, hesitantly.

"He sleeping Stark." I said quietly. Tony jumped and looked over at me, scanning me up and down for a long moment before breaking into a large, wide, shit-eating grin.

"Oh, I see. Tired him out huh?" I grimaced, but stood strong. The only thing Tony would respond to was someone who wasn't afraid of him. And as much as my knees were shaking underneath the cover of the counter, Tony didn't need to know that.

"I guess so. Now I'll make sure to tell him that you were here, but for now, you should probably leave." I told him, coming out from behind the counter and motioning for him to leave.

"Oh no, no, no. I need to congratulate the good captain on finally losing that V-card." he wiped a mock tear from his eye, placing a hand on his chest, "They grow up so fast."

"Tony," I muttered warningly.

"Oo, the temperature in here just dropped five degrees. What happened to you ice princess? Wasn't a good experience?" he mocked. I blushed all the way to my ears, and marched over to him, not caring if I was only wearing Steve's shirt.

"Now listen here wiseass," I jammed a finger into the center of his chest, momentarily registering the hard metal my finger had come in contact with instead of flesh, "That man in the other room has been nothing but nice to you. He does not deserve to be teased or ridiculed over any of this. Especially with references he doesn't understand. You may own this tower, but that does not give you permission to march all over everyone else's lives. You hear me?" Tony's eyebrow arched aristocratically, smirking approvingly.

"Pipe down there half-pint. I only tease the captain because he can take it. And its part of my charm, ask anyone. In fact, come to the Stark Christmas party in a few weeks and see for yourself." He pulled out a black envelope with "Captain Steven Rogers" printed on the front in gold cursive. "That's half of the reason I came down here this morning, to deliver this. And now I can formally invite you too." He smiled, handing me the envelope and taking a step back, working his way back to the elevator. "Now he's got a meeting in a half an hour, and considering the fact that he usually runs these things, you might want to hold off on defiling a national treasure again this morning," he finished, the doors to the elevator closing. I stood, sputtering for a few seconds before I heard the bedroom door open. A rumpled, shirtless Steve stood in the doorway, sleep still in his eyes and a pair of jeans pulled on haphazardly, the top button left undone. I swallowed thickly. Damn he was attractive.

"Charlotte? Who was that?" he asked. I jumped a bit, pulling the envelope out from behind my back.

"Oh that was just," I debated lying to him, but figured he probably wouldn't appreciate that as much as knowing that Tony had seen me in my current state would piss him off. Truth, honor and all that. "that was Tony," I finished. Steve suddenly looked a whole lot more awake.

"What? Tony was here? And he saw you like-" I watched his jaw lock and twitch and came over to him, holding his arms.

"Its fine Steve. Obviously not ideal, but its fine. He wasn't even that much of an asshole about it." Steve looked down at me skeptically, "Okay, he was still kind of an asshole, but its Tony, what do you expect? And its fine, I promise."

"I just can't believe that he would come in like that. He's overrode my security protocols before, but only during emergencies. I'll have to ask Natasha about how she keeps him out," He muttered. "Are you sure you're okay?" I rolled my eyes.

"Of course I'm okay. Now, coffee?" I asked, walking over to the machine.

"If you can figure out that machine, sure. What did Stark want?" he asked, taking a seat at the counter.

"Oh, he wanted to drop off that envelope. Its for the Stark Christmas party. He also kind of invited me to it." I said the last part quietly, unsure as to whether he would want me to come to such a formal event. Steve looked up from the envelope, puzzled.

"Really? Are you going to come?" he asked, softly.

"Well, maybe. If you don't mind," I responded, equally hesitant.

"Of course not. I was going to invite you anyway. I don't want to go to this thing alone," he smiled and I grinned back, immediately relieved that things were still easy between us after everything that had happened last night.

"Good. When is it?" I asked, turning back to the coffee maker, that I had successfully persuaded into brewing two cups of strong black coffee.

"I don't know, it looks like-." I turned back to find the counter covered in gold glitter, some of it falling onto Steve's lap and couldn't help but giggle. Giggles turned into belly laughs, and before I knew it I was doubled over, struggling for breath. The picture of Blue Eyes looking down at the rain of gold glitter all over his hands and lap, some making its way to his face in the mysterious way that glitter traveled, was too much to handle. I recovered, grabbing the two cups of coffee and setting them down outside of the glitter perimeter. Steve was less than pleased. I wiped away a tear and sighed.

"Oh calm down Blue Eyes, its just glitter. Do you have a vacuum around here somewhere?" Steve nodded slowly and motioned towards the closet next to the kitchen, inadvertently showering himself with more glitter. I got out the vacuum and cleaned up the mess, breaking down into giggles every once in a while. Once he was cleaned up, we moved to the table, and drank our coffee, looking over the invitation carefully. As with anything Tony Stark did, the invite was elegant, beautifully crafted and a little over the top. The party was two weeks from today and was apparently going to be a big deal. The event was also black tie required, which meant I needed to find some sort of formal dress. I groaned internally, knowing that the last formal gown I had worn had been to my senior prom and there was no way I was pulling that thing out of storage.

"You don't have to go you know. We can do something else that night," Steve said, and I looked up, realizing that my emotions must have been clear on my face.

"No, its fine. And these are your friends. If we're gonna continue this thing, it would be nice to meet the people you work with. Even if they are superheroes."

"They're great people, I promise. Well, except for Tony, but you knew that already. They're going to love you." Steve squeezed my hand reassuringly and I rose, collecting our already empty coffee cups and placing them in the sink. Steve came up behind me, his hands resting on my hips, lips working their way down my neck. I shivered and turned around, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"As much as I would like to continue this, I have a shift to get to. And you apparently have a status meeting?" I reminded him. Steve's brow furrowed in confusion before he looked over my head in panic.

"Shoot! It's almost ten," he muttered, "I had no idea how late it was."

"What time are you usually up?" I asked hesitantly as I followed him back into the bedroom.

"Six am on the dot. Every morning. I usually go for a run, have breakfast, work on paperwork and then head in for work," he said, buttoning his jeans and pulling on a dark blue t-shirt.

"Damn. Six am. Well, considering the amount of sleep we got last night, I guess you shouldn't be surprised that you slept in a bit." I winked at him mischievously, pulling on my bra and dress.

"Don't look at me like that, or I'm going to be a hell of a lot later to this meeting than I already am." he warned, his eyes fierce and still full of lust. I grinned and shrugged, turning away to grab the rest of my things.

"What do you even do at work anyway?" I asked. Steve paused in his movements and looked hesitant. I held up my hands.

"Top secret national security stuff. Right. Sorry. You don't have to tell me anything," I replied, walking out into the living room.

"I wish I could, I really do, but it's not exactly stuff I can share." I smiled at him.

"Boy scout, I understand completely. No need to feel bad. In fact, I really don't want to know," I shrugged on my coat and stuffed my hose and garter belt into my bag. Steve came over to me, holding my hands in his.

"Let me take you home at least. I feel bad leaving you like this after last night," he murmured, touching his forehead to mine.

"Hey, its fine. I've got a shift anyway, and I can get home on my own. Don't worry about me," I smiled up at him. His hands cradled my face, and his gaze became more intense.

"When can I see you next?" he asked fiercely. I swallowed hard at the intensity in his voice.

"Soon, I promise. I've got a shift and stuff tonight but tomorrow? You could come to my place and we could order take out?" I suggested. He smiled and kissed me sweetly.

"Perfect. Here's my number." he recited as I programmed it into my phone. "Text me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?" he said.

"I will, I promise," I responded, making my way towards the elevator.

"Charlotte!" he called out. I turned and watched him stick his hands in his pockets sheepishly. "Thank you. For last night. For everything," he looked up at me shyly and I smiled.

"No Steve, thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." I murmured as the elevator doors closed. I bit my lip and smiled.

"JARVIS. Ground floor please."

"Right away Miss."

**AN: Hope that satisfied anyone's need for a sweet/funny morning after. I'll see you all next week! Review!**


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